Elbereth Help Us
by Andi-Scribbles
Summary: What horrors happen when you try to flame a MarySue? She sucks you in, of course! The story of one hostile teen, a pissy MarySue, and the Quest of the Ring. And the Fellowship is in for a smack in the face... Witty, MS Bashing fun inside.
1. The Beginning

'Well', I thought, looking into the mirror, 'it's not a total disaster.'

My hair was tangled and wet, apart from its usual brown, straight, plain-Jane style. This was gonna be a mess to fix. Why did I beg Mom to let me grow it long? The swampy mess of my hair was past my shoulder blades.

My face was smeared with mascara that dripped down my cheeks. I looked at myself, and wanted to cry.

It was only a couple hours ago that I had climbed down from my bedroom window to meet Kale and Dan and Lindsay. It was only two hours ago that we had gone (illegally, I might add) to the closed pier and hung around. Why had my raging hormones told me to gather what rebelliousness I had left? I didn't even really like them. I only hung out with them to piss Dad off.

Anyway, it was only an hour after arriving at the pier that Kale decided to be funny and push me in the water.

Lindsay was pissed. She helped me out of the water, checked me for injuries, and punched Kale really hard in the stomach. We got in her car, and she took me home.

I was _sure_ Dad heard me come in. He was just saving the punishment and lecture until the morning.

I didn't care. I went to my room, stopping at the mirror. And, wow, here we are.

Like I said, I wanted to cry. I felt stupid for sneaking out. I felt ugly, my makeup dripping and my hair a tangled mess. You know, I always thought my face was really plain. Except my eyes. I had plain brown hair, a plain nose, a plain mouth, and plain pale skin. But my eyes weren't plain. They were a kind of blue-green, streaky and, well, pretty. Pinch me if I brag.

So I really didn't have the stomach to sleep. I couldn't. I decided to spend the last of my freedom before I got grounded.

I turned on my computer, going to my favorite site. It was a Lord of the Rings fan fiction site.

Now, I know what you are thinking. Oh, great, another dork in fake pointy ears and who bugs all her friends by talking to them in Elvish.

Nope, not me. I mean, I read the books, saw the movies, and read Tolkien's other works (Simarillion, The Hobbit, ect.) but it never became a major hobby.

My real hobby was telling pathetic Mary-Sue authors to give up writing. I loved it. Man, these people were pathetic! I mean, shit, these people model their Mary-Sues after themselves (or so they think). Every sad Mary-Sue story I could read, I did.

So I got my bag, unzipping it and taking out a super copy of the Trilogy. I needed to do my research to truly enjoy pointing out every little imperfection in their stories.

_The Fellowship of the Princess _I read on a particular story's title, _by Jenna1227._

Well, Ms. Jenna1227, let's see who we have today. Perhaps a fawning peredhil in need of rescuing by Legolas? Or maybe a beautiful sorceress who snags the attention of Aragorn? Pfffaaa… I can be so mean sometimes.

I scrolled down to the description. We have liftoff!

And I quote:

"'_I am Princess Morwenna of the land of Lendrenor. I have come to help you on your quest. For the fate of your ring is tied with that of my kingdom'"_

Blah, blah, blah…

"_Her eyes were the deepest shade of blue, matching her shimmering dress. Her hair was long and golden. She looked to be someone of great kindness and wisdom. About her finger was a ring of power, wrought in mithril."_

Oh, God. Shoot me now. I scrolled down and read some more. It seemed that within two days she had Legolas eating out of the palm of her hand. Gee, how unusual and charismatic. (Within this story you will notice my sarcastic comments. I try. Really I do. It's just that I can't control my mouth/thoughts. My shrink says I need more help than he can give. Unfortunately for him, the thing I gave was hell. wink wink).

Anyway, I pressed the review button. It didn't work. I pressed it again. Still didn't. I succeeded in giving my index finger a helluva cramp. In one last move I swore and slammed my fist on the mouse.

And then it went dark.

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	2. Of Sues and Striders

Darn, I hate technology.

As I regained consciousness, a sharp pain coursed through my hand. If I had been electrocuted, there was gonna be some serious heck to pay at the computer store. I opened my eyes.

The scariest sight I had ever seen hovered above me.

It was a pair of the most terrifyingly blue eyes ever. They were wide and vapid, and really scary.

Blonde hair hung down from the face and onto me.

I got up so fast I got whiplash.

"Who are you?" asked the girl in a fluttery voice.

"Who the in the flying Peloponnesian are you!" I said, panicking.

She had a shimmering blue dress, and on her finger was a silvery ring.

"Princess Morwenna of Lendrenor."

That blew it. I fell on the mossy floor, laughing so hard that I turned beet red. Then I realized I still had my copy of the Trilogy in my hand.

I must have a hangover. Your dreams get pretty funky after you drink. Yeah, I thought, it's just a little liquor in my system. So I got up.

That wench took one look at my jeans and tee and put her nose so high you'd think it was pulled by a puppet string.

"Ah," she said, "Will you kindly direct me to Bree, peasant?"

"Peasant! I got this outfit at Abercrombie! You look like you just stepped out of Green Acres!"

Well, not really. I just wanted to make a point.

She looked at me like I was a fresh lunatic.

"Do you know the way to Bree or not?" she asked me.

"Bree, huh? Well, if I didn't know any better I'd say I was in Middle Earth."

"You are."

Figures. I must've been dreaming. I slapped my own wrist. Ouch. Definitely not dreaming.

"Okay," I said, "I'll take you there. I'll play along."

Surprisingly, we found Bree easily. It was only a quarter of a mile off, from the edge of the "Old Forest", where I landed. Yeah, the little map in the book came in handy. So did my camping skills. (Ahem, the moss grows on the North side of the tree. Take that, Girl Scout Leader Rebecca!)

The town was small and, well, grubby. I know, you're wondering how a town can be grubby. Well, just picture it. It smells like beer and dirt, and everyone there looks like they've never set foot in a bathtub. Yuck, I am so glad I was born in the twentieth century.

"Hey," I said, "Where's the Prancing Pony?"

She pointed to the sign with the seemingly drunk horse on it.

Can't she tell sarcasm when she hears it?

Blah, the usual. Four cuddly hobbits in a booth, sipping some ale. Scary man in green hood chilling in corner, watch'n four hobbits in booth. Heeeellllloo, Viggo, here I come!

I shoved miss Mary-Sue-Who aside, heading toward Aragorn. That wench shoved me right back, her narrow cat eyes on handsome.

She turned to face me, again setting the record for the scariest face.

_"Stay out of my way, or you'll regret it." _Holy crap. That was scary.

"Okay, Miss Bipolar," I replied, mildly amused. Again her eyes narrowed on me. I held my palms open. "Chill," I said.

She strode over to him.

"Strider," she said, but I cut her off.

"My Lord Aragorn," I began. Hey, I'm good at this. I should ask Mrs. Mcmeans if I can try out for the play. "You are being followed. Five of the Nazgul are behind you. You must take the Halflings to Imladris immediately."

Hah! Take that poopskane! She looked daggers at me. Then again, I thought, she could just be upset because she didn't know what the heck "Imladris" was. That is the fatal flaw in Mary-Sues. They only know as much as their authors. This one looked like hers only saw the movie.

Aragorn took up his suspicious look. At least I think he did. I don't know, he was wearing a hood.

"Who are you?" he asked us.

Again, I was shoved aside.

"My Lord," she said her voice back to its bubbly, fluttery self. "I am Princess Morwenna of Lendrenor. I have been sent to aide you on your quest."

Poor, poor dear. She failed to know that the council of Elrond hadn't even gone on yet. No quest yet, sweetie. I think he knew, though.

"And you?" he asked me, cornering me with his sharp eyes.

Must make up alias before dropping in fictional realm. Remind me later. My real name: Elaina. Not too bad for fairytale-ish world. I'll keep it. Hmm. Elaina of America? Nope. Where did I like best? Let's see… Gondor, Rohan, Rivendell, Lorien, Harad, Mordor, The Shire? Elaina of Gondor. How 'bout that?

"I am … er… Elaina of Gondor."

The bastard still looked suspicious. Couldn't blame him, though. Morwenna was radiating a positively disgusting fake smile.

"How do you know my name?" he asked me.

"Telekinesis," I said, shrugging. He looked at me with a weird face. I stared blankly back. He ignored me then.

"How do you know my name?" he asked the fembot.

"I have been sent by my father, the king. We must meet the Lord Elrond. Our kingdom is in the gravest of danger."

"Is this true?" he asked me.

"Whatever floats yer boat." Again, he looked at me weirdly.

I had better get used to those looks.

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	3. The Quest

Chapter 3

Well, we hitched up the hobbits and away we went! Those things— Ring wraiths— were so annoying. Well, they were a little more than annoying. They were freaky. Every time they screeched it sounded like someone was trying to imitate a howler monkey crossed with a chicken! Kinda thought Morwenna was trying to sing… Gosh, was that irritating… plus, there was no electricity (I know, I know, you'd think traveling with the Fellowship would be exciting— but really all I did was listen to Merry and Pip complain about the lack of food, Sam be fussy over Frodo, and Aragorn give me and the Mary Sue dirty, suspicious, I-hate-you looks.) So finally, on Amon Sul, Aragorn gave me a sword! He went off to look around, while everyone else was all calm and DIDN'T know that they were gonna be attacked by a fleet of evil smelly ring wraiths! I however, kept up my spirits by singing Spice Girls. Middle Earth is the only place you can sing that and not get laughed at—though I did get some weird looks. Pippin was covering his ears (along with the others) when he said the first thing to me that wasn't questioning my identity or such.

"What in the Shire are you…um… singing?" he asked me.

I looked at him, stopping to let them have a breather before the next chorus. We were interrupted, however, by the screeching of chicken howler monkeys (and no, it wasn't the Mary sue singing).

"Oh crap," I said, "Oh crap, crap, crap, double crapazoid!"

Everyone stopped from their horrified terror to look at me. A black figure swooped close to us. I immediately (and clumsily) unsheathed my sword, waiting for Morwenna to do the same.

She stopped, cowering and stumbling backward. Drat! Double doody dratted drat! Ya want something done, ya gotta do it yourself!

So, with my amazing maternal instinct, I shielded them all (yes, even her) from those things. What I thought was a scratchy, guttural laugh came from ring wraith number 3. Okay, am I really that pathetic?

Apparently so, because with one sweep of the claw-thingy he smacked me to the side. Well, I tried. You can't stop fate.

Yada yada, Frodo stabbed, yada yada, Aragorn fire throwing, so on and so forth. We ran in the general direction of Rivendell, though I don't know why the heck Aragorn thought we could make it. We were so screwed without Gorfindel (or Arwen, for that matter).

Suddenly, a bright light appeared. Could it be? Was it she?

Yeah, and actually really surprised it was Arwen. I mean, what kinda world was this? Must have been the Hollywood version. Oh well. Gorfindel will just have to do without his horse. Arwen picked up the gangrene Frodo, mounting the horse. I took my chance.

"Noro lim, Asfoloth, noro lim!" I said.

Aragorn and Arwen looked at me, not in suspicion, but in surprise. Hurrah, finally some attention!

Wow, Rivendell was GORGEOUS! Did I mention there are hot elves there? Flocks, fleets, and bushels of hot elven bachelors! I know you know the story of the Council of Elrond, so don't even ask me to tell you about it. Plus, I kinda fell asleep. Sorry, but I was seriously lacking in rest and nurture. Morwenna, however, was ever so kind, volunteering me for the fellowship. Gosh, ain't she sweet?

Interference, however, was a big thing. What part would I play in this? How much information was I gonna give? Hmmm, I thought, telling of Gandalf's demise wasn't an option. That had to play out. But should I save Boromir? Well, let's just see if I like him enough. Now spare me the lecture about changing the future and crap, because for all I know, this could be a dream, or I could be in a coma or something. I want to make it my own story; however un-Tolkien purist that sounds. We'll see…

So, we set out. Luckily, I wasn't the only girl in the fellowship. Unluckily, the other girl was a sick, perfectionist Mary Sue. Need I say more?

My trademark thing seemed to be a long, drawn-out sigh, exaggerated to an annoying huff of air. Aragorn looked at me wearily every time I did that. The others, however, did the same as I, though it seemed I irked him more than anyone else besides Morwenna. She took every darn opportunity to hit on Legolas and Aragorn, laughing obnoxiously and batting her disgustingly long eyelashes. Gag me, please. Every time she did that, I imitated her behind her back, making the most extreme gestures and fluttering my shorter eyelashes to the maximum. It looked like I had a boulder in my eye and was trying to blink it out. And every time I imitated her laughter, I made the fakest, most nauseating smile and then holding an imaginary dagger to my own chest in disgust. But at least someone found my humor, well, humorous. Merry and Pippin turned crimson and made stifled giggles. Aragorn looked almost ready to grin, though out of his polite ranger-guy attitude he didn't. Legolas smiled slightly, grateful that anyone realized how chafed he was by her never-ending hits. Gandalf just frowned at my gestures, amazed that anyone could have fun when he knew at any moment we could be randomly attacked by orcs and slaughtered. Sam just paid attention to his dear Mr. Frodo, though when Morwenna ruffled Frodo's head, he scowled and looked ready to bite her fingers off. Gimli all out chuckled, winking at me. Boromir just grinned insanely. Darn, I was starting to like that guy. That was going to complicate things a bit.

So we arrived at the weird group of rocks that those Alfred Hitchcock wannabe birds came by. Boromir started to teach the hobbits how to kick the hell out of his shins, while the others adjusted to the odd interval of rest. I just looked longingly at the swords in everyone's hands. It wasn't my fault that I nearly killed Merry when I tripped and my sword landed inches from his face. I remained pouty and huffy for a whole day after Aragorn took it away for "safekeeping". I sighed at the large shiny sword Boromir had. Aragorn eyed me, pulling out the small sword that I once held, and came over to me.

He held it out to me. "Will you be more careful?" he asked.

I let out a delighted squeal. "Yes! Thank you!"

A smile flickered for a moment on his lips, and then he went back to studly ranger-dude. He walked away, shaking his head, and then he said something like a prayer in Elvish.

I walked over to Boromir and Merry and Pippin, brandishing my sword proudly.

"Will you teach me?" I asked him.

He looked hesitant, considering the fact that Aragorn had actually given me a sharp object.

"But you are a woman." He said.

I glared at him.

"No crap, Sherlock! You got a problem with that!" I asked angrily.

His mouth closed, but the surprise still showed in his face. When he turned around, I gave Merry and Pip a wink. They erupted in silent giggles. We almost proceeded to actual hand to hand combat, but then Boromir stopped, turning his face to the sky. Darn, I thought, I remember now! Killer bird time…

Legolas pounced on the rock, announcing to us all in his namby-pamby elvish knowledge "Crebain from Dunland!" I ducked, not wanting any Crebain poop in my hair.

"The passage South is being watched. We must take the pass of Caradhras!"

I swore, running my hand through my hair. I hated the cold.


	4. That Darn Saruman!

"It's fricking freezing up here Mr. Bigglesworth!"

Now, okay, for a Texan I can take more cold than most. I lived in Cleveland for two years. And yes, that is Cleveland, OHIO. Well, that was nothing compared to this. We just HAD to take the passage to Caradhras, didn't we?

For days, we just walked. Nothing special happened, until Boromir got all crazy and almost took the ring.

So there I was; mumbling about my lack of body heat, occasionally humming a tune or two. Then Frodo slipped. For a second he was frantically looking for the ring. Then everyone saw that Boromir had it. His eyes… glazed over. It was really creepy.

He said his bit, and then I jumped in.

"Hey, it looks like a storm is coming!"

Everyone looked to the black clouds, but Aragorn kept his eyes on Boromir. Boromir handed the ring back to Frodo. Then I saw ranger-dude take his hand off Anduril.

'Yeah,' I thought, 'that's it, Grease head, don't even think about it!'

Not that I had anything against him, mind you, but nobody messes with Boromir. He was my favorite Lord of Gondor. And yes, that even includes Aragorn. His brownie points would be a lot higher if he cracked a smile every once in a while. And bathed. Uuugggh, men.

So up and up and up and up until I felt like bloody puking. Plus, my ears were popping. I never thought I would be that happy to be caught in a monstrous blizzard and almost crushed by falling rocks. But ––really— if you had to listen to Morwenna chatter about her PERFECT kingdom in her PERFECT world with her PERFECT CRAP, you would be happy too. At least we would be in the warmer (although more musty) Mines of Moria. Yes, I was that desperate.

"Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse; nai yarvaxea rasselya!"

Holy flipping cows on a stick! What the heck was that?

"There is a fell voice on the air!" announced Legolas.

Like we didn't know that, Genius.

And then I remembered. Saruman was trying to commit Fellowship Genocide. That happens a lot to us. Personally, I think they are all after the Mary Sue.

My train of thought went back to reality.

"We will go through the mines!" said Frodo.

Ugh, again with the switching of terrain. I can already feel the shin splits! They truly are trying to kill me…


	5. The Dread Rock

Do you know how, in the movie, Moria was three freaking feet away from the top of Caradhras? WELL IT'S NOT. That was about another two day journey. If I had a personal trainer, he probably would say I am in the best shape of my life. Which isn't very much. But it's a start. You would be, too, if you spent a whole bloody month doing nothing but walking.

So, on to Moria!

A dread-rock sat in the pit of my stomach. Don't act like you don't know what a dread-rock is. When you know you are in trouble, and you're waiting to get yelled by your parents; like you brought home a "D" on your report card. Yeah, that's the feeling. Me, a D? Never, not in my entire life have I gotten anything but an A. Well… okay, but my teacher was a—

"It reads 'The Doors of Durin-Lord of Moria speak friend and enter,'" announced Gandalf.

'Darn' I thought, 'We're here!'

The dark lake looked like a sewage plant. And it smelled like sushi. The fishy breeze stirred the water uncomfortably. Oh yes, now I remember. We were all going to be eaten by a big, smelly, and equally ugly kraken. Life sucks sometimes.

Morwenna narrowed her eyes at the nasty lake water and then looked at me devilishly. Was that a smirk? Oh, HELL NO, she did not just smirk at me. Witch is gonna die… if the Watcher doesn't get me first. Boromir saw my face screwed up in revenge, and then he looked at Morwenna. I could swear, he hates her almost as much as I do! Man, I knew I always liked him. I am so going to save him. Spare me the speech.

So we sat down, and I got so bored that I almost told him the answer. But the witch got to it first.

"Ah," she cried daintily, "It's a riddle! Now I see it! Mellon!"

I snarled at her under my breath as the stone door swung open, much to the surprise of everyone. Huh, who knew? Mary-sue, actually speaking Elvish? Well, I learn something new every day.

My palms were getting sweaty, and my eyes were shifting. Please don't laugh at me, I swear, I heard the kraken.

Entering the dank and dusty "tomb", I sniffed the air disgustedly. It STANK. You would not believe it; the smell was like old crusty dwarves. Oh, yeah. I forgot.

Crap, I missed the dialogue again. Remind me to pay attention.

"This is no mine— it is a tomb!" At those words, we scrambled for the door, but I stopped dead when a big ugly tentacle grabbed Frodo.

My, again and inevitable, reaction was to grab Merry and Pippin. When they are built like third-graders you forget that they aren't children. But I am sure they appreciated it all the same. Morwenna grabbed her bow and aimed an arrow at the kraken, and missed. If Frodo wasn't being mauled by an adaptation of "Two Thousand Leagues Under the Sea," I probably would've snickered at her. But, alas, duty calls.

Again, we were rushed into the mines, after the manly and fishy hero scene of Boromir, Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas. I feel sorry for you. You can't see these hotties, muscles flexing and wet from the lake. I also feel sorry for me. I have to smell men (elves, dwarves, ect.) who haven't bathed in weeks. Oh well.

So, we now had to trek the dangerous and dark road through Moria. I now have no doubts that it will, literally, take a freaking year to do it. We'll see.

Suddenly (well, after about two hours of walking) I spot a glint of pale blue-green in the dark. I look back. There is a midget behind us. At my gaze, the creature scrambles to the deep ditch, hissing quietly as it goes. I let out a high-pitched scream, much to my own embarrassment.

I scream, "Down there! S-something… crawling around."

Everyone looks to where I point, and Morwenna actually takes a step back. Gandalf addresses us all darkly.

"It was the creature Gollum. He follows us, and listens even now as we speak."

Aragorn reaches for Anduril, almost giddy at the thought of another fight scene. Gandalf shakes his head.

"He is a creature to be pitied. He has yet a part to play in our journey."

I look down there again, but can discern nothing in the murky dark. Boromir touches my arm, concerned.

"Are you well, Elaina?" he asks me quietly.

"Oh," I say, now even more embarrassed. How pathetic. I have seen all three movies and read all three books and still I have a panic attack at the first whiff of Gollum. I blush. Yes… I blush.

I hope this doesn't turn into a twisted Boromance. Then again… I wouldn't mind that much.

Hmmm, on with the Journey.

To be continued…


	6. Legolas1, Sue0

Chapter 6

Well, we are officially lost. Gandoof over there forgot the way. And out there by the lake he boasted that he knows all the tongues and things in middle earth. Except for the way out, of course. We sit here, helpless and inert, just screaming at all the "older and fouler things" to kill us. Like a balrog. Yes, I remember the balrog. I also remember the fiery and painful death that Gandalf must suffer to save us. For once, I feel more sympathetic of him than of myself. I never thought that was possible.

We are sitting, doing nothing, when I realize I am being watched. I look around, to try and catch Gollum. But the only ones staring at me are Gimli, Legolas, and Boromir, and Morwenna. I suddenly notice that my cheeks are hot. All eyes on me.

"Ye—eeeeessss?" I ask in a long drawn-out voice.

They all keep staring.

"What, do I have something on my face, or what?"

"You just were singing, that's all." Said Boromir.

"Oh…Well I do have ADD."

They are so cute when they are confused by my modern (but slightly true) humor.

Legolas wrinkled his hot nose and asked, "What's that?"

"Well", I said, "it's like when you… well I can't really focus on things that well, and people give me… medicine, if you will, to make me pay attention. Savvy?"

They all nodded, except Morwenna.

"I couldn't imagine My Kingdom being ridden with such a disease." She said haughtily. "It better not be contagious. But, I think, it is fitting that you have such a sickness, is it not?"

You know what, in spite of her snobbiness, I was enjoying this. You should've seen the Boys' faces.

Gimli looked like he could put his ax to use, and Boromir looked downright insulted. But Legolas's reaction was the best.

"TRUE royalty, Miss Morwenna, show compassion to the sick. They don't shun even those with the basest diseases. And this 'ADD' seems to me, not a physical ailment, but a mental one. Therefore it is not contagious. You, perhaps, should think on your values— as politeness and compassion are not among them."

Yes, brother! We must continue to stick it to the man!

The Prince of Mirkwood shrugged her off with a disgusted look, and walked over to talk to Aragorn.

Ha! Take that you foul Mary Sue!

Morwenna conjured her most injured, teary-eyed look. It made her look a little more evil. She let out a huff, gave me a death look, and stormed about ten feet away to cry.

"Mental, that one." I said to Boromir and Gimli. Gimli chuckled and went to shadow the hobbits. He left me to stare akwardly at Boromir.


	7. Conversations

Chapter 7

Boromir is hotter than Sean Bean, let me tell you. Not that I have anything against Sean, it's just… wow. Tolkien really knew what he was writing.

Dark haired, grey eyed—buns of steel, mind you. How is a fangirl not supposed to drool? But he also carried a secret obsession with the ONE RING. Somehow, I didn't mind. Now is my chance, and if I, in any way, act as a Mary Sue, I will bid the world farewell and shoot myself in the head.

"Do you still wish for me to teach you to fight?"

Ugggh, I thought. Leave it to men to start a conversation with swords and such.

"Well, I did come to defend the Ring-Bearer. Shouldn't I be able to… well… defend him?"

He looked thoughtfully at Frodo, with no freaky obsession, but true caring.

"Yes" he said firmly. "So I shall teach you."

I thanked him, and we went back into silence. Finally, he broke the tensions again.

"We must be truthful, my lady, and not keep up pretenses. We all know well enough that you and Lady Morwenna are not of Gondor. Am I correct?"

"Nothing gets past you, Sly. You're right."

"Well, where are you from, then?"

I decided to tell him. We are a fellowship, no matter how crazy we are, and that means no lies. Besides, they already know that I am bananas.

"I come from a place called the United States of America. There, buddy, there is none of this 'Evil Overlord world domination' stuff. Just free enterprise, youth affected in every way by the media, and good ol' cheeseburgers."

Once again, I was launched into another tale of my strange explanations of modern slang. When I was finished, Boromir stood agape.

"So you don't have a king- but a kind of Messenger of the People?"

"Sort of, but he is called the President. People take votes to bring him to power, and he makes important decisions based on what the people want. Or he is supposed to. Some don't agree with him—so they elect a new one in four years. Savvy?"

"I think so… How do you live with all of this confusion?"

"I take Aspirins. Some people take Tylenol."

Confused looks started to annoy me, so I told him to forget it.

"And the lady Morwenna? Where is Lendrenor?"

"I have no earthly idea. She is a mystery as much to me as to you. There is no doubt in my mind, however, that she has some secret past, and one day she will prove to be a big pain in the a, and when it really matters, too. All I know is, She. Is. Evil."

"Yes," he said, rather alarmed. "She doesn't seem like a lady to me. Why do you say she has a 'secret past'?"

"They always do."

"So you think she is hiding something?"

"Definitely."

"And you?"

I laughed.

"Sir," I said, "I grew up a very sheltered life. No secrets, no dark past. A few normal problems, helped through with family and friends. I never needed to defend my family or myself from enemies like I would here; orcs and evil lords are fantasies in my world. Just a person, looking for my edge—my personality. And I've found it. I don't need more than I have."

Boromir looked at me like… almost like I wasn't crazy. Weird, I know.

"It takes a truly unique spirit to be content with all you have. You, I think, are more than what you seem to be."

I was shocked. Did he use a Mary Sue line on me? Did I like it? Is he starting to look really sexy right now? Will this ring of questions ever end?

To be continued…


	8. Rated K for Kickass

I woke to the sound of a crash, then booming sounds. Damn it! Wasn't someone supposed to be a look-out at night?

Then I realize Pippin is standing next to a gaping hole in the stone floor with a half-guilty, half-terrified look. Everyone gets up from the floor and is immediately awake.

"Fool of a Took!" says Grandpa Greybeard. "Every goblin in Moria knows we are here now!"

Pippin looks utterly crushed, but he doesn't have time to make everyone else except me feel sorry for him, because Aragorn and Gandalf pull us all into a mad dash for our lives.

My hands are clammy, and I squeeze Boromir's hand so tightly that my knuckles are white. As we run through the dark passages I nearly trip over a rock.

Wait… not a rock. Just some bones.

BONES?

I supress a wave of nausea and continue on, but then I remember that this is where it all goes wrong, when we lose Gandalf… and soon after, Boromir. Oh crap. We are so freaking screwed.

The tunnel stops. We come to a warped, huge stone door. Legolas and Aragorn pair off to open the huge doors, but are nearly knocked off their feet when Gimli runs toward Balin's coffin-thingy. Morwenna tries to look sympathetic, but her face just seems uncaring. Our eyes meet, and she sneers while I just glare back at her.

Slowly and cautiously we all enter Balin's Tomb. Gandalf warily picks up a large book from the hands of a dwarf- one that won't need that book from now on, since he's dead and all. It was covered with rust colored spots. Then I realized it was blood.

"Are you well, lady?"

I looked at Aragorn, who finally noticed that I was NOT okay, but I nod anyway.

That seemed to be enough for him, so he went to check on Sam, who had a nasty cut on his foot where he stepped on a sharp rock. I sat down and opened my flask of water.

Oh, I would kill for a milkshake! It doesn't even have to be chocolate! Any flavor!

"They have taken the bridge, and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out…They are coming."

Oh holy moly. A deep boom comes from beneath us, then it comes from the door. I hear a wild screeching noise.

Ah, that would be the goblins. Despite my fear, my face flushes and my hand reaches for the sharp sword-knife-thing that Boromir lent me. My first battle. This was going to be fun.

Boromir and Aragorn work to close the doors, and Boromir says in a half-hopeless, half-excited voice "They have a cave troll!"

We all take our positions (well, they take their positions, I look very out of place there, standing there gawking and holding my sword with my clammy hands.)

Then it begins.

Legolas takes the first shot, but soon enough the orcs start filing in like giddy school kids.

A little one starts coming my way, and I brandish my dagger menacingly and bare my teeth. Somewhere, I read that it is instinct for them to back away after threatened with teeth. I guess my orc didn't hear that.

He raises his little scimitar-thing to my dagger, and cuts my hand.

Nasty little bugger.

I bring mine down a bit then slice a thin line across his middle. He only screetches and hacks at me.

These things never go down, do they?

So, with every piece of strength I had learned to use in my AAD class (assault agression defence), I impaled the orc with my dagger. He staggers. He falls.

Yes! Mama's first orc!

After that I have an easier time. My dagger mysteriously finds it's way into orc hearts (or, where they would be). But a big one up and sliced my right shoulder open. It hurt. A lot. Once or twice Boromir and Gimli had my back, and Morwenna "accidentally" brought her bow back to fast and whacked me in the head. I responded by splattering her with the nearest orc's blood. "Oops" I said, "I'm _so _sorry."

I was beginning to get tired, and it had only been fifteen or twenty minutes. But, mercifully, there was only a couple of them left.

Gandalf took the last one down, then ran over to the column in the corner. So did everyone else. Oh crap.

Frodo was crumpled agaist the column, winded. Aragorn pulled the big spike-thing from him, and he began to breathe again, obviously alive.

"You should be dead! That spear would have skewered a wild boar!"

"I think there is more to this hobbit than meets the eye," said Gandalf sagely.

Frodo pulled his ripped shirt over to reveal a shimmering, shiny shirt. Morwenna eyed it with envy. I gave her a death look.

"Mithril," breathed Gimli, "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins!"

Then came more screeches. We are so in deep caca.

Gandalf raised his eyes in alarm, then, in a most urgent voice cried "To the Bridge of Khazad-Dum!"

And again, we run!

To be continued…


	9. The First Problem

Chapter 9

AUTHOR'S NOTE; PLEASE READ BEFORE TAKING A GANDER AT CHAPER NINE!

Dear readers,

This chapter deals with real feelings, and I must warn you, Elaina's humor is pushed aside in this chapter by real emotions, (which always seem to get in the way of comic releif). Please! I really want your opinions on this! After all, I do write this for all of you . Reviews are needed to tell me what you think of this style—but I'm telling you now that Elaina's sense of humor doesn't stay away from her for very long, so please flinches, don't hate me! Happy reading… p.s. tell me if in any way she sounds a little too mary- sueish…

The orcs aren't far behind. I have never run so freaking hard in my life, yet I'm not tired because someone is pulling me along. I looked ahead of me, forgetting my terror for a moment.

It's Legolas. He is running so fast that it seems his feet never touch the ground. Aragorn has Frodo's arm, and Sam and Gimli run side by side. Morwenna tries to look heroic and strong by running faster than us but she looks like she could drop at any moment. I wish she would. But, then where would the villain of my story be? Pulling up the rear is Boromir, gripping Merry and Pippin and running faster than I ever could with two hobbits joined at my wrists. In the lead is Gandalf.

They are so close behind us now that I can smell them. Uuuggghhh, orcs stink. But I put that aside in exchange for a different emotion than disgust—insane fear.

I can't change this! I think to myself. This is going to happen. What am I going to do! The fear grows in the back of my mind as I think "What if I change something? What if she changes something!"

They are closing in on us, circling around us like birds of prey. I pull out my dagger. Everyone else follows.

Then— they stop.

Screeching, shouting, scrambling ensues. No, not me… the orcs. Something weird looms behind us. A shadow. A balrog.

Okay, okay, no more suspense. Fast forward to the bridge.

"You shall not pass!"

Gandalf looks exhausted, yet with strength I didn't know such an old man could have, slammed his staff into the bridge. It gave way, and he turned, but not before the whip caught his ankle and pulled him down too.

"No!" screamed Frodo. I looked around. For me, well, I knew he'd be back. All, but Morwenna of course (she looked anxious, scared even, but it didn't seem to me she had any emotional attachment), but everyone looked utterly despairing. He was the leader, the person everyone could count on to protect them. Now he was gone. For them, everything was uncertain. Seeing others lose hope gave me a resolution— to help however I could, even if I was a useless American teenager.

It was almost a reflex for the boys to fight the orcs. But what was weird was they did it with disbeleif on their face, almost like numbness, trying to shun any truth. It wasn't a time for my levity. I kept silent, letting go of Legolas' hand and taking Sam's. He needed someone. Tears were streaming down his face.

We made our way out of the dark mines and into the rocky terrain outside. Aragorn kept going, like if he stopped he would break and no longer be the calm and safe leader he seemed. Legolas came to reality before everyone else. He didn't cry; elves' hurts run deeper. You could tell that he knew, though.

Pippin and Merry clutched each other, sobbing. I teared up, not for Gandalf, but for my friends. Frodo had lost a part of himself, and he looked it.

"Get them up," said Aragorn, trying not to show panic.

Boromir looked pleadingly at him. "Give them a moment for pity's sake!" he cried.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlorien." He sounds desperate. "Legolas. Boromir. Gimli. Get them up." With one last look he turns and starts walking.

"This is real," my mind said to me, "These aren't just some characters from a book."

Reality hit me, hard. This wasn't just a game anymore. And I couldn't pretend it was…

TO BE CONTINUED…


	10. Psycho Spy Barbie

Chapter 10: A Shocker…. Not really.

We trudged along, passing the Mirrormere with no ceremony, though I forgot my reality check for a moment looking at the crystal blue waters. I wasn't the only one, too. Gimli dipped his head in respect, and Merry let out a low whistle, dipping his hands in the cold water and taking a few relished sips.

"Soon, we will reach Lothlorien," said Aragorn hopefully, "we will find rest in the Golden Woods."

Morwenna stopped dead in her tracks.

"Lothlorien?" She was genuinly freaked. I was careful not to let anyone see my smile. "No one who ventures _near_ Lothlorien is ever heard from again…" Her voice trailed off into a strangled mutter, like an animal makes when some other beast comes and takes its food, but is too big to face down. But I don't think it was Lothlorien's mysterious border that freaked her. She seemed… like she expected us to go another way.

"What is our road?" she asked, "Aren't we going south, through Rohan?"

"We can't." said Aragorn, annoyed that she was questioning him, "Saruman's spies would find us and we would be exposed to Isengard."

"Oh," she said in a false accepting voice, "of course, yes… you're right."

But something told me she wasn't all that content with our plans…

We neared to Lothlorien, and it was fairly uneventful.

Until, of course, we all found out Miss Mary Sue's dirty little secret.

I was walking along, listening to Pippin talk about the Shire, when I see out of the corner of my eye something white fly from Morwenna's pack. It is _only natural _that I bend down to pick it up.

It was a piece of parchment, rolled up and stamped with some sort of wax seal. Curiousity gets the better of me, and I _oh so casually_ look at the symbol on the seal.

Oh. My. God.

It's a hand, surrounded by black. The hand is _white._

"Wait," I say to Boromir, clutching his shirt from behind. Pippin looks at me. "What is it?" Pip asks.

Boromir turns to look at the letter, confused at first. Then he realizes it, too.

"_Spy!" _He says as the other members turn to look at us.

"She's a _spy_!" I say loudly, enough so that everyone hears… even her.

"Give me that!" she hissed, snatching the message out of my hand. "What are you rambling about!" asked Morwenna, though I could clearly see her eyes fly in a panic as Aragorn strode over to see what this was about.

"_Give it to me," _was all he said (and believe me that scare the crap out of me, too) and she reluctantly handed him the letter. She didn't waste any time ripping something out of her pack and backing away from all of us. Aragorn finished reading the message and reached for Anduril, eyes blazing.

That sent her into a panic. She took what was a small handful of powder in her hand, looked at me one last time, and screamed, "You'll _pay_ for that!"

And like that, she was gone in a cloud of purple smoke. Trust a Mary Sue to make a dramatic departure.

"Who would've thought?" said Sam breathlessly.

"Me," I said quietly, "I _knew_ she was trouble."

TBC…..


	11. Buds

Chapter 11

Our group is, if it is possible, even more down. That is two members we lost in a matter of 24 hours. One of them, we didn't want to leave us. The other… well, let's put it this way: Instead of having an enemy close by to where you can watch them, they are now gone, can show up at any time, and know somewhat where you are headed. Talk about a bummer.

That night, we were so close to Lothlorien that Aragorn allowed us to camp, because no enemy went so close to the protection of the Wood. But we were too far from Caras Galadhon to venture on.

I sat down by the fire, while everyone else did, too. There was too much to worry about for anyone to sleep.

Across the fire, a pair of sharp grey eyes rested on my bag. It donned on me.

"Here," I said quietly, handing my pack over to Aragorn. "It's alright, go ahead."

Aragorn hesitated, as if fighting between suspicion and politeness. Everyone was looking now, and I could feel my face flushing.

"Listen," I said, "It's good to be…careful." I had to be extra cautious choosing my words. "If it makes you feel better, go ahead. I have nothing to hide." I dropped my bag and slowly turned, walking away.

"Where are you going?" asked Merry.

"For a walk."

It's so weird, that I didn't see it before. I have been traveling with these people for weeks, and they don't know anything about me. Everyone has an understanding, if not a friendship, with each other. They were all doing something that made the biggest impact on each of their lives, and the lives of the people they love. So they understand one another.

Me— I'm on a joyride, a vacation like some sort of weird reality TV show that wasn't planned. The only thing in it for me is to say, "Hey, I was there."

I feel so out of place, almost… alone.

"Hey," came a voice softly behind me. I jumped, swiveling around to face the Prince of Mirkwood.

"Could you not do that, please?" I asked. "You damn elves are so quiet! No wonder you guys kicked Melkor's butt."

A faint smirk, then back to his usual stoicalness.

"And you mortals wear your emotions on your sleeves." He said gravely.

I sat back down. "There's no argueing that," I muttered.

He sat down next to me, and for a minute or two we just rested there, taking in the beauty of the forest. Faintly, I could hear water rushing as a little stream, and the birds chirped cheerily.

"You're lonely," he said suddenly. It wasn't a question.

I focused my gaze intently on my hands picking at the stitching on my tunic.

"I forgot to say that you elves are also pretty perceptive." I said finally.

"Yes," I whispered. "I am."

He breathed in deeply, as if starting again.

"You don't have to be." Was all he said, and I was forced to look at him. He didn't look uncomfortable, or akward, like I felt. Only thoughtful… even understanding.

"We are all in this together," he said gently, "And I think it is much easier when we are all at ease… friends… with each other. Don't you think so?"

I didn't need to think about it. It was what I wanted most in the world.

"Yes," I said, smiling at him.

"Then we are, what you call, 'buds'?" he asked, with a hint of sarcasm (but nonetheless seriously). I laughed. Leave it to a completely reserved and solitary elf to be the first friend of a weird human girl.

"Yes. Buds."

The trees shuddered in an almost tense way, the silence unbearable.

Okay, whose idea was it to go to Lothlorien? This place is creeping me out.

That morning we had all left to file into the woods (me, I might add, on a slightly better note than before). When I came back the night before, I found my bag, still sitting by the fire, untouched. I looked at Aragorn, who seemed completely confident in his choice to trust me. Something told me Legolas had talked to him. The elf gave me a slight smile.

But soon, I was back to being anxious. You can't help it when you think of facing the most powerful being in middle earth besides Sauron himself. And Gimli talking smack about her didn't help, either.

"Stay close, young hobbits," he hissed, "they say a sorceress lives in these woods…an elf-witch…of terrible power. All who look upon her…fall under her spell."

Frodo hesitated for a moment, and for a moment I heard a faint voice whispering in my ear.

Okay. I am officially creeped out.

"And are never seen again." He finishes. He straightened up, putting on a careless face and gripping his axe proudly.

"Here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily," he boasted. "I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."

'Sure you do', I thought as an arrow was pointed directly into my face.

Hahaha…cliffhanger. Keep reading to find out what happens. P.s. more to come VERY soon, as I have gotten very good ideas for oncoming chapters.

Note: I am sorry to say to all you Legolas lovers that this is NOT a legomance. sigh. He and Elaina NEVER hook up. Sorry. However, I did not say there won't be any romance at all….. ;)


	12. The Really Golden Wood

Chapter 12

Having an arrow pointed at you point blank by the deadliest archers in middle earth isn't very fun. Especially when they think you are a danger to their beloved forest.

"The dwarf breathed so loud we could have shot him in the dark," said the blond guy disdainfully.

Ah, this must be Haldir.

(Haldir of Lorien, we come here for your help. We need your protection.)

"Aragorn," said Gimli, taken aback, "these woods are perilous. We should go back!"

Not a chance, shorty. Try to leave and you'd sprout feathers from your brain in 2 seconds flat.

Haldir thought along the same lines. "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back."

All paused, then they slowly lowered their arrows.

"Come… She is waiting."

Tolkien really knew how to put it— Lothlorien, I mean. It was gorgeous; the bark on the tree wasn't black, or brown. It was silver. The leaves weren't green, or even your run-of-the-mill autumn colors. They were gold. Each tree was so vibrant, so almost alive. Honestly, it's hard for anyone to stun me into silence, but I'm telling you it happened.

So we climbed the silver stars, to the big treehouse thing in the biggest tree I've ever seen. No wonder elves are so graceful. They have to be if they climb that many stairs every day.

In a moment of intensity a blinding white light appeared at the top of the stairs. It was them.

"Eight there are here yet nine there were set out from Rivendell," said the not-sounding-like-he-just-did-crack Celeborn. (Seriously, what was PJ thinking?) "Tell me where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him."

I finally looked at the lady. She was no Cate Blanchett.

Not that I have anything against Cate…on the contrary, I thought she delivered. But this lady… she was almost something else entirely.

I won't say she looked youthful. She didn't— she looked so old I could almost compare her to the giant tree we were standing in. But she didn't look 'warped' by age, if it makes sense. The only allusions to her age were her eyes— like deep pools of blue-grey that held memories both wonderful and awful. Her pale face was framed by long golden hair, and she was robed in shimmering white that hurt my eyes with its brightness.

She began to speak with strong voice, firmer than you'd imagine hearing from this angelic-looking elf. But it was still smooth to hear.

"…he has fallen into shadow." She said softly, as though she'd seen it herself.

Then, I heard something quite different. Somehow I guessed that no one else could hear it. The voice was so close, like a thought in my head. How could anyone else hear?

'This journey was not meant for you.' Said Galadriel to me in my head. Her tone wasn't accusing— in fact, she sounded almost amused. 'But fate sees fit to bring you nonetheless.'

Then I made a mistake. To think, with someone else in my head.

'You wish it didn't?' she asked in reply to my open thoughts, 'Nothing is chance, Vinyaquén. Choices are made for a balance, be it for good…or ill.'

Then which is it? I asked myself.

'That,' she said somberly, 'I do not know.'

We were welcomed with the site of – yes- REAL COUCHES TO SLEEP ON.

I let out a small cry of surprise, then in a snap rushed to flop onto the one where my stuff was set. The hobbits followed suit, hugging the pillows like old friends they hadn't seen in years.

"Where have you been all my life?" I asked the pillow I was snuggling, letting out a breath of comfort.

"Really," said Boromir exasperatedly, "Only women and hobbits act like life on the road is the most horrible kind there is." Despite what he said, he flashed a grin.

"And leave it to men, elves, and dwarves to be the last to admit that they prefer a nice warm bed over the cold hard ground. What, do you guys think it tarnishes your toughness, to like to feel comfortable once in a while?" I asked, throwing a smirk over back at him.

"Nay," said Legolas, flopping (gracefully, I might add) onto his. "Only men and dwarves."

"Excuse me, Master Elf," said Gimli. "I believe you mean, men only." He put his axe down and pushed his way onto the couch with difficulty, finally getting up and chuckling gruffly. "Dwarves are a hardy breed, but home is where the heart lies."

Aragorn smiled for the first time in days.

"You are all wrong," he said, taking all the weapons from his belt, and settling down on his. "It is only some men."

"I believe," I said innocently, "You are outnnumbered, Lord Boromir."

"Very well," he replied, "Then I am forced to concede."

"Well that's a first," said Pippin loudly, leaving everyone laughing.

Lothlorien is really beautiful in the dead of night. It's weird, because you think it would be dark in a forest, but there is so much light here. The stars are— brighter, almost. Like they are when you go out to the country, away from all the buzz of the city. It's wonderful.

There are footsteps behind me, and I know because this time I hear them. Human steps, I mean.

It's Boromir. He comes to sit next to me. His face is tense, and I would swear on my life that there was something scaring him.

"Tell me about your family," he said, turning to face me.

"Why?" I ask.

He made a distinct movement, setting his eyes firmly ahead as though shutting some emotion out. "Because I don't want to think about mine," he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

I paused, thinking of what I should say about my family.

"I live with my dad," I began. "But I was going to move out before autumn to go to school. I don't have any siblings. Don't you have a brother?"

"Yes," he said, "What about your mother?"

"She left us when I was ten."

"She died?"

"No. She just left and never came back."

"Why would she do that?"

I had spent all of my childhood asking that very question, and I still couldn't figure it out. As far as I knew, she just didn't care enough to stay.

"I don't know," I said hesitantly. "I guess she didn't like the life she had with my dad and me."

"That's awful." Boromir murmured.

"It mattered when I was younger. It hurt. But I made the decision a while ago that if she didn't care about me then I wouldn't care about her."

"Sometimes the people that love you can't show it. Deep inside, they care the world for you and never choose to say it." His eyes glinted for a moment, but no tears fell. I knew who he was thinking of, and it made me hurt so much I wanted to cry. What would it be like to grow up the favorite, watching the brother or sister you love be hurt by the parent you love? It was a double-edged knife, to be torn between two people who you care for. He was in the middle.

I sat there for a moment, just thinking of what to do. And then I said to myself, 'There is nothing you can do. It's not your place. So don't get in the middle and screw things up.' Sometimes my mind is really hard on me. Your's would be too if you were like me.

"Listen," I said to him, my voice bouncing back to cheery, "You promised to teach me to fight, and I haven't learned one damn thing! If I don't learn how to disembowel an orc in the next 24 hours I am holding your word false."

"That, I cannot allow," he said, grinning again. "Though I must say I find your zeal for life absolutely irritating. Do you ever get tired of being the one who makes all the jokes?"

"Nope," I said, "It never gets old."

And it never did.


	13. Sparring

Chapter 13

Wow. It really sucks to wake up to the sound of hobbits eating. And I am being completely serious when I say normal people DO NOT EAT LIKE THAT. Smacking, chewing, and talking with their mouths full. It was insane.

My eyes cracked open.

"What time is it?" I asked, more loudly than I expected.

Merry amazingly took his face off his plate for a second, giving a muffled reply.

"What? Sorry, I couldn't hear you. I was distracted by the enormously large amount of food being destroyed inside your mouth."

Pippin snorted, and Merry gave an indifferent shrug.

"It's high noon." Came a haughty voice from behind me. I turned to face a blonde elf with a half-sneering, half-amused look on his face.

"Hello, Haldir."

"I am not a messenger," began Haldir, smirking, "but when the Lord Boromir told me why he was waiting on the training grounds I knew it would be a worthy cause. I could not pass up the chance to see this."

"Did he pay you to come here and mock me," I asked sweetly, "or do you just like the sight of a person falling flat on their face?"

"I think a little of both."

"Well then," I said, getting up and yawning. "I won't keep you waiting. Since your being such a good messenger would you please tell Boromir I'll be there in a minute?"

"I suppose." I didn't know how anyone could be so arrogant and sarcastic at the same time.

Sam stared curiously at me. "What are you doing on the training grounds?"

"Embarrassing myself by trying to learn to fight." I grumbled as I slipped my boots on.

He and Haldir were talking, Boromir standing with a wooden sword in each of his hands. Hal was casually leaning against a tree, haughty expression resumed. When I strolled up, Hal smirked and practically skipped over to the side to watch.

"You're very encouraging, you know." I shouted after him.

"And so are we."

I spun around to face an elf, a dwarf, and four hobbits. Oh great. More fans in the peanut gallery.

"Encouraging, huh? I hope someone here knows how to staunch a wound, because I have a feeling I'm not leaving here in one piece."

"I give her three minutes," said Haldir gleefully.

"Nonsense," said Gimli. "The lass can hold her own."

"Fifteen minutes then?" asked Frodo. More sniggering from the peanut gallery.

"Laugh it up," I added, "Go ahead. You're gonna wish I was at your back sometime or another."

"Not if we don't begin anytime soon," stated Boromir, waving the wooden training sword impatiently. "I have been waiting here all morning."

I grumbled. It was time to get down to business.

Two hours, one gash, and three bruises later I had made a little bit of improvement. I was tired, hungry, and aching. But I was glowing with pride. This time Boromir attacked I had ducked, blocked, and made an offensive move.

"You've got to move a little quicker," added Gimli. For the whole time, my "fans" had been putting in a little here and there.

We tried again. This time, block, sidestep, block, and attack. I whacked Boromir in his arm, catching him off guard.

"YES!" I yelled, throwing down my sword in victory. He gave a yelp of pain, dropping his.

I heard clapping from behind me.

I turned, sweeping into a dramatic bow.

"Once," said Boromir stubbornly, still clutching his shoulder, "An orc won't stop after you hit it in the arm."

I stuck my tongue out. "Don't be sore about it. I'm celebrating my improvement. I mean, it's not every day you get to hit the son of the Steward of Gondor without consequences."

"Did I imply there would be no consequences?"

"What are you going to do about it?"

He straightened up, shaking his hurt away and reaching down for his training sword. Bringing his weapon into an unmistakably challenging position, he said shortly, "A duel."

"To the death?" I asked, picking mine off the ground.

He nodded, grinning.

"I accept."

In less than thirty seconds I was lying on my back, with a newly formed bruise on my side. Boromir gallantly stood over me, offering his hand.

"I thought it was to the death?"

He rolled his eyes, grabbing my arm and pulling me up.

"You can't be a good warrior if you can't show mercy. But I wasn't scheduled to cover that until tomorrow."

"I'll be sure to take notes on that," I said, rubbing my side where he hit me.

"I believe it's time for luncheon," said Merry.

"I agree. I'm starving." And I was. I could eat an oliphaunt. Not that there was any tramping around Lothlorien.

One month. We had been in Lothlorien for nearly one month. From the day we got there, January 16, to this exact day February 15, we had all felt the safety and protection of the Golden Woods. For one month, I had been training with Gondor's finest. Which, I may say, is something. No, I'm not bragging. Shut up.

Of course, our time here wasn't perfect, to say the least. Frodo still felt the burden of the ring. Aragorn still had doubts on his destiny. Boromir still struggled with himself. No matter what kind of distraction I could offer, he would always be affected. Being near Galadriel helped, but our time was running out. We would leave tomorrow, on February 16. Each day was more and more tight, more tense. Everyone dreaded leaving this place, where time nearly stopped.

We had seen Galadriel very few times, even though she sometimes dined with us, Celeborn at her side. I had a feeling she saw more of us then we did of her.

I sat in my now favorite spot, which I had found on the fourth day after we came. It was a little shaded grove, but little spots of sunlight streamed down through the gold leaves. It was so quiet there. It was my own little place.

I thought about what I had been doing this past month. My respect had certainly grown for these people I had come to know even better. It's different when you are staying in one place with your friends, rather than traveling. You get to see them as they act every day, normal…even happy. Then I thought about my other friend. You know. Six foot, dark haired, handsome guy. Don't make me say it. Every time I say his name I get a little flustered. Believe me; you would too, if you knew him. But exactly how well did I know him? Spending each day by his side, learning from him and listening to him and joking around and even being serious about some things. That's how well I knew him. And I liked what I saw. But how much? And why in the heck did I want to run in the other direction and at the same time just be around him every time I saw him?

"You're going to be late."

I jumped, but not nearly as wildly as I would have a month earlier. When you're in Lothlorien, there's so many bloody elves there that you have to remember they are everywhere… even if you can't hear or see them.

"When was the last time I asked you not to do that, Legolas?"

"Three hours ago." He replied flatly.

"So you DO remember."

He hastily avoided the accusation, pulling me to my feet and half dragging me back to the city.

"You are going to make me late, too, if you don't stop scrambling to hold onto every tree we pass."

"I don't want to go to the feast," I whined. "I want to crawl into my bed and sleep until next year."

"Hush, Elaina! You are expected to be there with us, too."

"I don't know why I do," I snapped back, "I'm going to be miserable."

"Why do you say that?"

"You know why! I don't want to leave here any more than you do!"

Legolas glanced severely at me, still pulling me along.

"You mortals are such children."

"It isn't my fault. I was born that way."

"If you don't go then you deprive Marchwarden Haldir of a dance partner!" He shot me a scathing smile.

"Okay," I said, planting my boots in the ground, "Now I'm DEFINITELY not going!"

That stupid elf was laughing at me.

"Finally!" shouted Frodo as he saw Legolas and me approaching. "I was afraid you weren't coming!"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." My teeth gritted and I glared daggers at the elf. He only whistled and shifted his gaze to the other side of the room.

We were at a large square hall inside one of the trees, but instead of the usual silver shine of bark, everything shimmered and sparkled like diamonds. It kind of hurt my eyes. Obviously elves knew how to decorate for a party. The boys were all mingling with the Galadhrim, while elf minstrels and dancers made us mortals look like Neanderthals. At the front of the room sat Galadriel and Celeborn, seated in thrones of gold and as beautiful and ethereal as ever. Are you jealous yet? Good.

Pippin caught sight of me, waving and bounding over to Frodo and me.

"Well well well, don't we look handsome tonight?" I said to Pip. He seemed to be wearing a big blue cloak decked with shiny silver threads. Frodo snorted with laughter as Pippin threw back his cloak, in an odd parody of Haldir. Uh-oh…it looks like he saw that one.

Before he could stroll over by us I quickly waved bye to the hobbits and fled into the crowd of elves, looking for Boromir. If anyone would hate dancing more than me, it would be him.

I found him, over by Aragorn and someone who looked like Haldir. I think his name was Rumil. I jogged over to him, trying desperately to avoid Haldir's hawk eyes that were scanning the hall for any sign of me. I tapped Boromir on the shoulder. He turned around.

My eyes widened as I caught sight of him. This person couldn't be him.

This Boromir was freshly shaven, clean (which is a plus when you are looking at a hard-bit warrior macho man) and decked out in Lothlorien's best. There was a huge smile on his face, and for the first time in a long time I had seen his eyes light up with genuine fun. I stood there gaping like an idiot.

Aragorn sniggered at me, and Rumil had an all-too-familiar smirk on his face.

"What," asked Boromir, putting his hands on his hips, "You were expecting Gollum?"

I snapped out of it.

"My, my, what a change of clothes can do to a man's ego." I exclaimed. Two can play at this game.

He narrowed his eyes at me and simpered. Looking out on across the hall he held out his hand.

"Would you care to dance?"

Not him! If anyone here would mope on the sidelines with me it would be him!

"I don't know how." I grumbled.

"You are a slow learner, but you'll get it," he said shortly, pulling me into the center of the room. God, just kill me!

My pulse shot like a bullet as he put one hand in mine, the other lightly around my waist. The music was playing, and I could feel the heat rush to my face. I said something very obscene under my breath.

Gimli was chuckling at me, while Legolas gave me a wink. I glowered at him. We were spinning, me occasionally trampling all over his feet and stumbling like the klutz that I was. He laughed it off, guiding me patiently until the song ended.

"Don't ever make me do that again," I muttered, all but running back to the corner. He raised his eyebrows, smirking but looking a bit disappointed as he took the hand of another. "Your loss," he yelled after me.

Haldir was waiting for me. No doubt to gloat.

I walked over, crossing my arms. "Don't say anything."

Author's note:

Awkward silence. Um, hey guys. This chapter was a bit of a challenge for me. I really tried to make it as un-Mary-Sue as possible. Tell me if it is otherwise… and I sat there thinking for hours, and it was driving me crazy that I couldn't think of a way to make the time lapse work! So finally, I thought that it would be good if you could hear about it the way Elaina saw it. I can't decide whether I like it or not. You'll let me know, won't you ;)?

Anyway, it is crucial to review this chapter, since it will determine the style of the rest of the story. Romance yes or no? Satisfactory? Did it leave you with a big grin on your face thinking of them going "AAAAWW!" or did it make you puke up your meal? I had fun writing it, anyway.

As always your greatest fan, Andie. I will love you like I love cake if you review… and that's saying something.


	14. More Dread Rocks

Chapter 14

There was no need to wake any of us—everyone was up by dawn. It was a kind of silent hell, all of us just sitting there waiting until we had to leave. I had never felt anything like it… and I don't want to again.

I was tired. The feast had lasted long into the night, and I always was a bit of a party girl. Heck, I thought, I might as well enjoy it now—there's nothing you can do to stay here. If I had asked, I would bet my life that they would have let me stay without thinking any less of me. I wasn't a coward. I was born a lot of things: annoying, clumsy, and occasionally rude. But I wasn't about to say I was a coward. So I would go, even if it meant I would never know about my future.

When everything was packed, we all silently hiked to the river, where Galadriel, Celeborn, and the rest of our friends would say goodbye, and where they (we?) would receive their (our?) gifts.

It was clear, sunny, and beautiful. I hated it. Of all the rotten days in middle earth, this would be the worst.

We all stood together so that she could speak to us.

"It is with deepest sorrow that you here depart from the Wood," she began, her voice as smooth as glass, "But hear now that all those who toil do not strive in vain, nor alone. Should you ever need it, help and hope shall come from the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien. Nai i Valar nauvar as elyë!"

I have to get Legolas or Aragorn to teach me Elvish.

As the Lady came to each of us to give her gifts, I tried to clear my mind. There were way too many thoughts in there for someone like her to be in it.

She glided over to me, and I could feel my heart skip a beat. Even around her, there was an overpowering sense of majesty. It was like being trapped in World Leader's Convention, where everywhere you turn you see royalty. I don't know how Celeborn did it.

"Peace, Vinyaquen." She said smiling. Obviously she picked up on my anxiousness. I took a deep breath. She pulled something from her white robe, something that shimmered in the sunlight.

It was a gorgeous small dagger, with silver runes engraved in the blade. The hilt was silvery, studded with shiny stones and detailed etchings.

I was caught there, gaping like an idiot.

"Lord Aragorn told me you were in need of a blade. I should think this is fitting?"

"Yes," I said, stumbling over my reply and breathlessly taking it. It was cool, and felt so right in my hands. How do elves have so much magic? We mortals are such cavemen!

"No," she said softly, "Mortals acquire such skill in amazingly short time. That is a wonder."

Oops. I forgot she could read my mind.

"Thank you so much," I said, with real gratitude. "This is exactly what I needed!"

"That is not all," she said. Suddenly there was a mysterious smile on her face. I was confused.

"You have a question, I believe, that you did not wish to ask." She said, looking me straight in the eyes. Now I was even more confused.

"How old are you, child?"

"I will be nineteen in the summer."

She suddenly directed her gaze over to Boromir. Now I knew what question she was going to answer.

"He is twenty-four." Her voice still held a little bit of mischief that I didn't understand. I couldn't help getting a little bit excited as she said that. Was he that supposed to be that young? He's not that much older than me! Wait— why did she feel the need to tell me that?...

I knew she heard me say all that in my mind. She didn't answer; she only stood there smiling that "I-know-something-you-don't" smile.

"Patience." She said simply.

I could feel the weight on my chest get heavier as our boats left Silverlode for the Anduin. We passed in silence, and it was very uneventful until we reached the Argonath. I craned my neck up so I could see the faces, but they were so tall that as we passed the farthest up I could see was the belts. I was sitting in the boat with Boromir and Merry, and as I turned to look at Boromir he smiled slightly. Obviously this was a big thing for a man of Gondor, to see your ancestors and what not. We continued on downriver to the lake.

The pressure on my chest was now at a high. It felt like a giant hand, squeezing each breath out of me. 'I will not panic' I said, over and over, 'I will not panic!'

We docked. I guess I had been noticeably more nervous, because before I knew it there was a hand on my shoulder, and Aragorn looked me straight in the face.

"What is wrong?" he asked firmly. I struggled over my words, and tried to speak, but only a weird strangled noise came from my throat. Damn you and your incoherency! Were you going to change things or not!

"Nothing," is what I settled on. Nothing. That's what I said. Sometimes I hate myself.

He looked at me in disbelief, but didn't say anymore. I sat down on a log, staring into space and falling into a glazed over calm. Things were so messed up!

"Where's Frodo?" asked Merry.

Damn it!

Aragorn had walked off, looking for Frodo and Boromir. I sat there, nearly hyperventilating beside Gimli. Legolas walked over to me, alarmed.

"What is it?" he asked, over and over. I wouldn't say anything. I couldn't. It was as if my actions were completely out of my control, and I could only sit there in a daze thinking about what might or would happen.

"Tell me!" he said, more urgently than before. "What's wrong?"

I looked up at them, an elf and a dwarf. Where were Merry and Pippin? My muscles were frozen in place. Then, a cool voice in the back of my mind spoke to me, almost pushing me into action.

'Do something,' the voice said, 'It isn't too late.'

I got up, pulling the magnificent dagger from its sheath, saying simply, "Uruks."

We were ready even before we heard the horn. I sprinted down the hill, not caring whether I stumbled or fell. If I told my legs to stop running I would still be bolting as fast as I could. There was no room for fear. In fact, there was no emotion at all. All I could feel was the blade in my hand and my feet tearing through Parth Galen.

They were near now. The Uruks, big black and ugly looming near my friends. I searched for that one, the one with the big black bow. I found him, trekking the hill and preparing to launch the arrow. I ignored the yell of Legolas as I rounded on Lurtz. It was now—or never.

He was stunned when he felt the impact of me tackling him. God, but it hurt my head. He swung around to face me, bearing his teeth and raising his scimitar. I ducked, bringing the dagger up to slice his wrist. He didn't even wince.

I was tripped and kicked, but I rolled to the left and kicked his legs as hard as I could, hearing a momentary growl from the Uruk. Nothing was a blur anymore. I could see the trees around me and everything was back to normal.

'Remember what Boromir taught you!' I said to myself, trying to think of the attack tactics. Let your enemy tire themselves out. Well, that wasn't going to happen. What next?

Go for speed. When the enemy is distracted by all of the movements, then you strike. So that is what I did.

Block, left, duck, attack, right, block and attack! And I succeeded in gashing his side. But something told me he wasn't going down that easily. I swiveled around him, slamming the dagger in his back as he grabbed my arm and wrenched me clear over his head. I crumbled to the ground, black dots swirling in front of my eyes. Crawling back up, I felt a sharp pain in my wrist. He once again raised his sword, but I rolled over to my right and got back up. I could feel something warm and wet on the back of my head. I reached around to touch it. My fingers were red.

He was moving slower now. Still going, but injured. This was my advantage. In a burst of strength I didn't know I had, I slammed my blade in his chest, ripping it out then backing away as he slumped to the ground with a thud.

More were coming, and for a moment I thought I could see a flash of blonde hair in the distance.

"Get the girl!" one of them hissed.

Pain exploded in the back of my head, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

MUAHAHAAHHAH! I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review!

May the Valar be with you!


	15. Return of the Bitch

Part II: Elbereth Help Us… THE TWO TOWERS!

Chapter 15

My head is KILLING me! I want nothing more than to resume unconsciousness, but I'm awake now. I have to find Merry or Pippin. If they were still taken, or alive, that is. I open my eyes.

My hands are bound, and I'm thrown over a Uruk's shoulder like a garbage bag. I suppress a wave of nausea and slowly and inconspicuously look around. The orc beside me sees my head move.

"Boss! BOSS! The girl, she's awake!"

Damn! I hope to God that there is a reason they keep me alive. Otherwise, I'm dead.

My eyes widen, and my jaw drops as the "boss" approaches.

It's her highness, Morwenna. I let out an angry growl. Yes, a growl. I'm pissed now.

"Morning, Sunshine," she purrs, but there's no warmth behind her words. Only mocking triumph.

What would I say to her? Ah, I remember what I wanted to say—

"You witch! If you've hurt ANY of my friends," I began, but she interrupted.

"—You'll what? What are you going to do?"

She motioned for the party to stop. Way in the distance, I saw one—no two little hobbit heads. Thank God. She wouldn't keep them if they were dead.

"YOU have a different fate, I fear, from them. They will be taken to Saruman. But I have another purpose for you."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Do you think I'm stupid!" she shrieked. I knew in my heart she meant it to be a rhetorical question, but I couldn't resist.

"Uh, let me think…yes."

She glared at me, snapping her fingers. The Uruk that was carrying me dropped me on my head, pinning me to the ground with his foot. Morwenna drew a blade from her dress.

Now, I will say again, I am NO coward. You can do anything to scare me, and believe me; I'll be as frightened as the next guy. But I believe in facing that fear head on without a show. No begging, no bribing.

The blade was close to my throat now. I was shaking slightly, but I would not give her the satisfaction of seeing me cower from her. That's not who I am.

"Do it!" I hissed. I was so scared. I didn't want to die this young. But I got some satisfaction from provoking her. "Go ahead. I dare you!"

She didn't. Obviously she had some reason for keeping me alive, because right then I knew she would if she could.

She pulled her blade back and nodded to the Uruk pinning me down.

He kicked me, hard, in the stomach, knocking the breath out of me and leaving me to sputter and cough. With one last smirk Morwenna walked off, signaling for the Uruks to resume running. I was once again hoisted onto the Uruk's shoulder.

It was going to be a long day.

Leave a review please…. And don't worry. This is NOT the end. ;)


	16. More Crap to Deal With

Chapter 16

For the next two days, I was limited in my actions. You know what I mean. I was slung over a freaking Uruk's shoulder with nothing to do but wait, and they made sure that I was never close enough to Merry and Pip. I got cuffed for humming, and it was four times he threatened to make me walk if I didn't shut up. If I wasn't so worried and hurt and tired it would've been fun to see him get agitated then realize he can't do more than give me a little slap.

I didn't see her again, up close anyway. She rode up at the front, nearest to the leader-dude. I hope she was having a bloody good time, because I wasn't going to make the mistake of being in her mercy again. Next time, when she wasn't surrounded by her little goblin buds, I would rip her freaking guts out with my bare hands. Or did I say strangle her with her own perfect golden hair? Oh well, just as long as I get to do it.

It was dusk. Wait, what day was it? I had been there for… three days! The Rohirrim were coming tonight!

"What are you so happy about?" growled the Uruk, obviously a little less than content at carrying around a pistol like me.

What should I say? I was feeling particularly mean.

"Oh, nothing…just— Fangorn's really close isn't it? I've heard that the trees there don't take to orcs well."

He snarled. "Well it's a good thing I'm not an orc then, Human, isn't it?"

"Same thing." I said shortly. That was the last straw for him.

He threw me off his back, grabbing the Uruk next to him by the neck.

"You carry her," he growled menacingly, walking ahead of us. I was so glad I wasn't useless. He and Morwenna would be racing for who could reach my neck first.

My head hurt like hell. The bleeding had stopped, but I had begun to feel dizzy. Blood loss, shock…and insanity. And I think my wrist is broken, or sprained or something. Lurtz did it when he tossed me over his head by my arm. And ropes around it didn't help.

Once again I was carted onto another Uruk.

You know, sometimes life really sucks.

Yes, yes, YES! We are finally at the edge of Fangorn!

"Get a fire going!" I heard, and I was dumped on the ground. Apparently, Uruks didn't know the meaning of the word "manners."

How many times will I say this until it actually stops?

My head is freaking KILLING me.

Still, I'm not going to complain... I'll just wait till the boys are all here- so that they can hear every minute of it.

The creaking of trees- then a din of orcs yelling at each other… like this is helping my throbbing headache.

"They are not for eating!"

Well, they most certainly aren't. I'm not either. But it's not like Uruks listen to you, nope.

More shouting- then, the fight starts.

"Look like meat's back on the menu, Boys!"

After a moment of completely and UTTERLY disgusting noises, I hear a different, silvery voice.

"Wait- where's the girl."

Oh. That would be me.

She strides over, alongside a giant Uruk that I assume to be the leader. Off to the side, two hobbits inch away from the frenzy. Morwenna and the Uruk don't notice. Well, here come more motherly instincts. Merry and Pip are SO lucky I like them enough to distract her, yes HER, for them. They owe me one.

I smile, in spite of my situation.

"Having a nice time playing with the orcs, Highness?" I ask.

She still holds a smug simper, though her knuckles are white from balling her fists.

"Once this is over," she says (trying to sound intimidating, of course,) "I'm going to make your death as slow and painful as possible."

"What a joy! I can hardly wait."

"You," she says, all hoity-toity, "are a fool. And before long you will beg me to forgive you."

I roll my eyes. She always goes for the dramatics.

"Okay, sure. Whatever you say, Chief." I try to salute her, but my hands are tied. Dang. Life kinda sucks right now.

Merry and Pippin are out of my sight range now, but something else is coming from the shadows. It's a rider!

"Rohirrim!" some random orc yells

"Get her out of here, and find the halflings!" she hisses to the captain. As she turns to leave (saving her own hide is so courageous, though altogether it doesn't surprise me) the Uruk lunges forward to grab me. This is my chance.

"HAI-YAH" I yell for effects, balling up my tied hands and punching the Uruk's face. Unfortunately, he only curses me and grabs my arm roughly.

I start struggling; all the while riders come up around me, fighting all the uruks and orcs. I manage to wrench free from his claws long enough to lurch forward and slice the ropes with the sword thing in his other hand, cutting my own. I let out a yelp.

Once again, the Uruk snarls and grabs my HAIR. My effing hair. Pardon my French, but HELL NO!

There's a rider next to me, finally noticing that I don't have a weapon (and, by the way he was gaping, that I was a girl. Must've been the hair, no?)

"Gimme a fucking weapon, NOW!" I yell, slightly muffled; dodging an attack.

He gapes, but finally pulls a small knife from his scabbard. He tosses it to me, and resumes fighting.

Now, we're on equal levels. Sort of.

I keep fighting, until I receive help from more riders. They pick off the last orc, and I sink to my knees.

Okay now, I have been HAULED, hit, cut, slapped, grabbed, pushed, yelled at, and thrown WAY too many times in the past couple days. That, and a total lack of food and sleep can make you a bit rough around the edges…

What's a girl have to do to get some rest, faint?

Ugghh, I spoke too soon…

* * *

Hey guys! Ready for the next chapter? I bet you are muahahahahahah! Well, as soon as everyone votes coughcough maybe it would come out… 

Anyways, sorry about the end of this one, but seriously; what do you think she'd do after all that stress and lack of energy? Even her hyperactiveness has limits. Ahh, if only it didn't, right?


	17. The Reunion

Chapter 17

"Yes, my lord, she's breathing!" I hear someone say, and I really don't want to open my eyes. But, my better judgement (who knew I even had that?) got a hold of me, and I slowly slipped back into conciousness.

I look up to see a rider, the one who gave me the sword. He is hunching over me with a look on his face like I was already dead. But, no, I'm alive. I can tell, because the pain is still very much there.

"Wow," I croaked, "How long have I been out?"

"Very little time," he said, just kind of sitting there and wondering what to do. About ten other riders surround me, and one with a tall helmet with a black plume motions for him to help me up. For a second, the world tilts, but my focus readjusted to a standing position. I'm light-headed and achey all over.

The black-plumed rider takes a short look at me and trots off to where the others are.

All eyes are on me.

"So," I say, glancing at the soldier, "I guess you guys are the Rohirrim."

That was probably the dumbest question I've ever asked. Including when I asked the lady at my dad's office how to open the door (after pulling it for about five minutes) and then noticing a sign that said 'Push to open.'

My question went unanswered. This guy, I noticed, couldn't be much older than me. He looked kind of out of place there, the youngest (and slight, almost lanky) one among the men. He had a kind of bewildered look on his face, like I was a science experiment that had jumped off the lab table and started doing a tap dance or something.

Anytime you wanna stop staring, that would be great. Tough crowd.

Before I could ask another question, the plume-dude came trotting back, this time with another guy on a horse. I spy with my little eye, a Lord of Rohan named Eomer.

Eomer eyed me, and (seeing I was a girl) his face softened a bit. He went from tough-guy macho man to tough but sort of sympathetic macho man who didn't want to send me home crying. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

"Who are you?" he asked me, "For what reason did the orcs keep you prisoner?"

He came across as just a teeny bit impatient. (Okay, up teeny bit to hugely and impatient to suspicious.) But I wasn't going to bother picking at him for being rude now, because I needed to know what the heck was happening. And I needed a horse.

"My name's Elaina, and three days ago at Amon Hen my party and I were ambushed." I wasn't going to tell him why. Heck, I didn't even know what the witch had up her sleeve. "You didn't happen to see two halflings run into Fangorn, did you?"

At this, a murmur went through the riders, some whispering excitedly. I guess hobbits were a rarity in Rohan.

"No," he said grimly. "But a rider was seen going west. Do you know of that?"

Ah, crap. That would be her highness, on her way to Isengard.

"Yes," I spat, "She's a spy for Saruman."

Eomer completely went from you're-a-bit-fishy to okay-now-tell-me-who-the-freak-you-really-are.

"And how will I know you aren't a spy," he asked, to my complete and utter surprise. Yes, I was being sarcastic.

"I-" I began, but I didn't know what to say. What could I say? Hey, man, I'm from 21st century America and I've inconveniantly dropped into middle earth and was caught up in the Fellowship of the One Ring which needs to be destroyed but I got sidetracked by a Mary Sue and some Uruk-Hai. Oh yeah, and orcs too.

Seriously though, I had to say something.

"I was called from Minas Tirith to Rivendell. Eleven of us set out, two men, a dwarf, an elf, four halflings, and Gandalf the Grey, myself, and the spy. We didn't know she was a traitor until she turned on us. We passed through Lothlorien, and then sailed down the Anduin to Amon Hen."

There, satisfied?

Obviously not, because he didn't lower his guard, and he didn't look any more trusting.

"Listen," I said, annoyed, "Do you really think, if I was a spy, that I would have those orcs haul my butt three leagues, then try to hack me to pieces? I may be young and stupid, but even I'm not that ridiculously idiotic!"

That seemed to be it for him, and he nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," I said. "Now, I'm sure my friends," (oh, God, three or four?) "Are on their way right now. My guess is, you'll meet them on their way here, and when they get here we'll all continue on through Fangorn to find my other friends. Can you help me?"

He looked at me for a minute. Then, slowly, he opened his mouth to speak to me.

"Can you ride?" he asked, pointing to my wrist, which was all swollen and cut up.

"It's broken, but it's healing." That was a big lie. It ached a lot, but I didn't want him to refuse me a horse just because of it. I could manage. Besides, Aragorn was raised in Elrond's house; I seriously didn't think he grew up without any knowledge of healing.

He nodded, beckoning for a horse to be brought up to me. I mounted (not without difficulty, though) and swung my leg over the horse. My head was spinning, and for a second I thought my brain was unattatched to my spinal cord.

Okay, it's all good. I'm good.

Eomer and the other riders began moving on again, and the boy fell back so he was riding next to me.

It's amazing how much you can learn about a person in half an hour. This kid, Bryne, had been trained as a horseman with his dad since he was nine, he had a younger sister (who, amazingly, wanted to be a shieldmaiden), and his horse was named Heolstor, after his great grandfather. (Do you ever wonder if they ever got made fun of for their names? Like, this little kid in a medieval schoolroom going 'Ha ha, your name's Faestnung!' and the other kid's like, 'Speak for yourself, your name's Ideswiga!') Yeah, at times like this you think a bit oddly.

But this kid was sweet. I swear, if I ever get a chance to make laws (yeah, right) the first thing I'm gonna do is make the combat-age 30. Kids like me shouldn't be fighting in wars. We should be off skipping and licking our lolly pops. (Mental picture: Will Ferrell, in the "Little Cletis" scene of Zoolander.) Funny stuff, though I unfortunately don't have the convenience of DVDs in the third age of middle earth.

"There they are," said Bryne, pointing to where the front of the Rohirrim were heading. My heart skipped a beat.

I hastily dismounted (ai, again with the nausea) and pushed my way through the horsemen to the front.

I was greeted with four relieved faces.

Author's note, or NOTES, muahahahah!

Hey people, thanks to EVERYONE who voted. I love you all so much, and I'm sorry if your vote was the opposite of this. Majority rules, c'est la vie. And yes, FOUR hunters. Boromir is alive. Don't like it, don't read it. Once again, a review (good, or a bit less good, but don't be rude if you wanted to kill him, please) would be absolutely peachy.

(Trivia: The names I used are all real Rohirric names. Go ahead and look up what they mean! I found them in the Rohirric names Database here at COE. Those databases are really great tools to use for names when you're doing a fanfiction.)

PM me if you have any questions or comments. Thanks a million!


	18. Love and Hate

Chapter 18

The first thing I do is breathe. Yeah, it feels like I haven't done that in a while. Aragorn's eyes widen, and he smiles. He really smiles. Gimli growls, and said in a relieved voice, "You gave us a right scare, lass!" Legolas says something in Elvish, slightly sighing. And Boromir gets off his horse to envelope me in a huge hug. He mutters something that sounds like, 'It was entirely my fault' and squeezes all the air out of me.

Man, I love these guys.

Aragorn dips his head at Eomer, going over to talk to him. After a moment of quiet talking, Eomer is off. I wave goodbye to Bryne, and Aragorn leads a horse to me.

"Stop," he says, when I try to mount. "There are things to be done first."

He reaches for my wrist, all purple and puffy.

"You're hurt!" Legolas said.

"No, really, I'm fine."

Aragorn pulls a bandage from a pouch in his belt, and tightly wraps my wrist. When he's satisfied he turns me around and feels the bump on my head. Ouch, effing a! That hurt!

"Stop moving around!"

"Stop touching my head!"

"Don't be so difficult!"

"Don't be so pokey!"

I get four different shouts at me at once. It looks like they all need some sleep. "Sorry," says Aragorn. "We were worried. We didn't stop running."

Awww, did they have to be so sweet?

"Well," I said, "Hanging, literally, hanging around with Morwenna wasn't a piece of cake, either. I swear, if she didn't know I could be of use to her, I'd have been dead three days ago."

"Making trouble?" Gimli asked deviously.

"Me? No way… well maybe a little. Did you think I would sit there and take it?"

"You?" said Aragorn sharply. Then he gave a crazy laugh. "I don't think so." Future kings are creepy. Seriously.

Boromir snorted disgustedly, murmuring, "Well, she deserved it, filthy traitorous—"

"I really think we should find Merry and Pippin," I said, "They'll be wanting something to eat soon. Is it time for second breakfast, or is it luncheon yet?"

"Between," said Legolas. "But it hardly matters with hobbits. They won't pass up a meal at any hour of the day."

"So you've seen them, and well?" asked Boromir, showing a twinge of guilt. He flushed a bit, looking pointedly at a rock directly behind me.

"Yeah, they're fine. Better than I did, actually. It was pretty smart to run right into Fangorn."

Gimli gasped. "Fangorn! Might as well have sent them into Mordor! Darkness runs deep through that place…"

"Really, it's a piece of cake. Not scared, are you boys? Because if you want to go home, that's fine. A lot of men, er, males can get a little intimidated at this point…"

I got four glares. Gah, this is fun, despite the fact we're all on a totally serious mission to save the world.

"That's not 'cool', Elaina." Said Boromir, narrowing his eyes. He seemed to be on the verge of a smile. "Just get on the horse."

I looked at Mr. Ed, grazing lazily. There should be a law against riding on the backs of four-legged, smelly, animals. No joke.

"Maybe I'll just walk."

"You're not walking."

"I'm not riding."

"Then I have no choice," he said, striding over to me and waiting.

"You wouldn't."

He smiled, hoisting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and swinging me on the horse.

"Jerk!" I blurted, fighting back a laugh.

The others began to go, slightly sniggering.

"It's my fault you're hurt, and I'm going to ride with you." He got behind me, wrapping his arms around me to grab the reins. I sighed, smirking and falling back.

"Okay," I said, "I give in."


	19. Stupid Wizards

Chapter 19

Okay, not exactly the nice little scene I hoped. Passing a rotting, disgusting pile of orc-corpses then walking right into the creepiest looking haunted forest ever isn't all that fun. Seriously, all you fan girls need to find a nice story to drop into, none of this following the most dangerous, smelliest, and suicidal route to certain doom. I'm thinking "Charmed" or "Smallville." At least in those shows you get magic powers (not to mention Julian Mcahon and Tom Welling.) And television. And chocolate. Yes, I am homesick.

This place is scary. PJ's set looks welcoming compared to the real Fangorn. All around, there are sinister, gnarled old trees, and anyone with claustrophobia would absolutely have a panic attack in here.

"I really don't like it here," I whispered. Yeah, it was that kind of place. I whispered. Like if we talked any louder, some crazy axe murderer dude would come running out of the shadows and chop the heck out of us.

"This forest is old. Very old," said Legolas softly. He looked around, kinda worried. "Full of memory. And anger."

"Oh, that's lovely," I said lightly, gripping Boromir's arm tighter.

"I believe my flow of blood is being cut off," he said, giving me an accusing stare.

Oops. Well, don't worry; I'm not the least bit scared.

The trees began creaking, getting louder and louder until it was a bit obvious that this wasn't exactly your run-of-the-mill forest. Gimli raised his axe, shifting.

Yes, that's very smart, just raise your tree-chopping axe in the middle of a haunted forest surrounded by pissed off trees. They'll love that.

"Gimli" Aragorn whispered urgently, "Lower your axe!"

"Not cool," I breathed, now letting go of Boromir's arm to bite my nails. Yes, it is one of my nervous habits. "So not cool."

Legolas put his finger to his lips, the sign for "shut up right now."

"Aragorn, nad no ennas!" he said, looking really scary.

"Man cenich?" Aragorn asked back. He looked worried now. We are all so screwed.

Wait, wait, hold up! My foreknowledge of this story is supposed to help! Don't be scared, stupid! You know it's only Gandalf!

I let out a snigger, commending my own stupidity.

Everyone but Legolas turned to stare at me.

"The White Wizard approaches," breathed the elf.

I giggled. Don't ask me why, I just suddenly felt brighter, knowing we would soon have beds and food in Edoras.

"Are you mad?" Boromir asked in hushed exasperation. I bit my tongue, but a smile still lingered on my face. Great, just dapper! You're making yourself look nuts!

Aragorn let my insanity slip that time, giving us orders. I gripped my dagger, feeling more lax than ever.

Then, in a sudden burst of bleached white, that stupid wizard blinded me with his light.

When all the fuss died down, I dared regain my optimism. We all silently walked along, leading the horses and stepping lighter than before. The boys all had shock still on their faces. Like reincarnation was beyond possibility, especially in Middle Earth.

"So," I said addressing Gandalf. "You had to kill the Balrog just for the last bottle of bleach in Arda?"

For a second, I saw a familiar spark in his eyes, like he had just performed some fireworks for some cute little hobbits.

"Impertinent child."

I shrugged. Which seemed oddly disrespectful considering he was the new White Wizard and all. But I was too tired, too relieved, too bold to care. I had busted my butt for these people, and I knew that I had deserved the right to tease him. And now, for a while, I would get a little bit of rest and relaxation. Until, of course, I had to drag my butt to Helm's Deep.

"You haven't yet told me of your little misadventure with the Uruk-Hai," he said, with a mystery that somewhat reminded me of Galadriel. What do you learn when you die?

"To make a long story short," I said lazily, "Elaina's score: one… Morwenna's score: zero."

"Hmm," he said sagely, "I figured as much."

"Yeah, well… I couldn't very well let Boromir get his butt kicked by those stooges." I said, loudly enough for Mr. Man's ego to hear me.

He turned around, raising his eyebrows and then sticking his tongue out at me.

"I had the situation under control," he said coolly, "I just, wanted to let you get some too."

"Oh, okay. Just a little misunderstanding, then."

Gandalf chuckled and rolled his eyes. Yeah, I didn't think wizards were allowed to do that, either.

"So naive," he said, the smile literally fading from his face. He looked grave now. And he was back to being the man, er Wizard, on a mission.

I didn't speak the rest of the time. But I kept my smile, because through all of my bad experience, I was glad to be with them all again.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, I'm a sucker for moments, too. Don't complain, just deal, ok?

Anyway, I'm sorry for the update lapse. I already told you about the hurricane, but I really have no excuse the past couple of days. Did I mention one of my habits is procrastination? Well, just ask any writer you meet, and they'll all say the same thing. Rome wasn't built in a day, and my story wasn't written in an hour. So expect writer's block to happen. Expect days where you will want to come to my house and strangle me until I update. But don't expect me to give up on my story, because even I can't do that. I love reviews! (subliminal message: You will now click the review button…)

Much love and cookies and chocolate,

Andie


	20. My Way or the Highway

Chapter 20

We were riding much too fast for my liking, but it's not like anyone listens to me. So we went on through to Edoras, sweeping through the green plains like punks to the exit of an Ashlee Simpson concert (heh, no offense. Couldn't resist…)

I could almost feel the mighty canon moment before it came.

"Edoras, and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown-- for Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong."

Great. All around us are enemies and idiots. What is the people's motivation around here?

As we rode closer, the wind cut through the air (resisting the temptation to make another joke) and I looked up at all the drab, depressed people of Edoras. Nearing the gates, I saw the flag drift over the town and land at Aragorn's feet (or his horse's feet.) I looked up, seeing a fleeing white-robed person that I assumed was Eowyn.

We rode up the steep steps, greeted by either utter melancholy or disregard. Man, I was really beginning to love this place already. At least I would have some peace and quiet.

We stepped up to the opening doors, faced with two rough looking guards.

"We cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed. You must surrender your weapons to us."

Surrender your weapons! As if we were there to attack them or something!

Gandalf nodded to Aragorn. He took out Anduril from its sheath and glared at the guard who was reaching for it. Aragorn shook his head.

"This is Anduril, the Sword Reforged from the Shards of Narsil." He said boldly. I could see a glitter of pride in his eyes, and he refused to hand it to the man. "None but I may wield it. But I will lay it down myself, if I must."

The guard nodded.

The other one reached for my long dagger that was a gift from the Lady.

"This is uhhh…. Vánmata… Yeah, I guess you can take her."

Gimme a break, I had to think up a cool name really fast.

The others gave up their weapons, and as we stepped in to the hall I heard Legolas whisper in my ear, "Your knife's name is 'goose eater'?"

I barely held in my burst of laughter. I guess I needed to brush up on my Quenya.

I looked around the hall, a wide chamber with dark wooden beams carved with gold. The roof was gold colored thatch, also supported by dark beams. At the far end of the room sat the King on his throne.

Théoden was most obviously under some kind of spell, and I was surprised the people of Rohan didn't just kill this Grima guy. I would be pissed if my king looked like that.

He was an old man. Well, that's a bit of an understatement. This guy looked like he had died about three or four days ago. His skin was pallid and lined with millions of tiny wrinkles. His eyes were sunken and unfocused, and his lank and thin beard and hair were shock white. Yeah, like I said, he looked dead.

But he was Vanna White compared to the hunchback of a man next to him.

Grima. Eeeew. That guy was so gross.

He was hunched over, robed in a shaggy black cloak that once must have been very fine. His face was the color of sour milk, and black hair was greasy and unkempt. And—he had no eyebrows. See? Creepy.

"You are not welcome here, Gandalf Greyhame," came a bitter and hissing voice from Grima. He reminded me of a greasy snake. "You are a herald of woe and ill news."

I gave my prissiest glare, fighting the urge to put my hand on my hip.

"Silence, serpent, and keep your forked tongue behind your pointed teeth! I did not pass through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!"

Alright, Grandpa! You show him!

Suddenly, Gandalf pulled his white staff from his grey cloak and pointed it at the king.

"His staff!" hissed Grima, inching away. "I told you to take his staff!"

Guards and men surrounded us, trying to get to Gandalf. The fight began, Boromir, Gimli, Aragorn, Legolas and I all clearing a path for the wizard.

The first guard that had taken "Goose eater" from me charged at me, but hesitated to harm me. He stared at me, obviously thinking I would start crying or running away or something. Good, let him think that.

This was my first fist fight, and I wanted it to be good, so I took advantage of the moment of his hesitation, grabbing him by the shoulders and ramming my knee between his legs. He slumped over, and I caught a sideways glance from Boromir. He looked at me, half shocked, half disapproving. He shook his head, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. No other man came to fight me. Can't for the life of me figure out why.

When all the men had backed away or lay on the ground, we all looked to the Wizard, who was whispering words in another language. He never stopped pointing his staff at Théoden. Wicked cackling came from the king's mouth, and he wheezed and coughed and laughed thunderous laughter. Freaky, I know.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Gre—," but he was cut off by the blinding white light that had filled the hall.

Woohoo! Gandalf power!

Théoden lay backed against his throne and in a smooth and harsh voice said,

"If I go, Théoden dies!"

"You could not kill me, you will not kill him," said the wizard calmly, still holding the staff.

A slender lady in a white gown came in, running toward him. Aragorn grabbed her and held her back, hissing "Wait!"

"I release you from the spell," said Gandalf, closing his eyes and gently shaking his hand at the cowering figure. "Be gone, Curunir! Rohan shall be free of you!"

And, like that, the old man whimpered and nearly fell from his seat, if Eowyn had not caught him.

His white hair shortened and turned to a faded gold, and his skin smoothed. The glassy eyes became grey and focused again. This was Théoden.

He breathed deeply, looking at his niece.

"I know your face," he whispered, looking at her. He stared all around him, and at the Wizard.

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," said Gandalf in a weary voice.

The king rose, looking around. Everyone bowed.

What a show.

Author's note: Hope you liked it. Next chapter will be up soon; I have gotten all my writing juices going. Also a small message to you lurkers-and-not-reviewers:

ONLY the people who leave reviews get PM's on updates. So review, please.

Love always, Andie.

(P.S. Had a lot of fun writing this one! ;) Kind of mixed movie/book/my own version!)


	21. Trouble in Paradise?

Someone is shaking me.

"Elaina? Wake up! It's nearly midday!"

I am going to kill Boromir.

"Have you ever heard of rest? Do you people not get it?" My eyes were still closed, and I let out a growl, trying to shake a strong hand from my shoulder.

"Go away! I'm sleeping!"

"Really?" he asked, and I heard the amusement in his voice. Ten bucks says I open my eyes and his hands are on his hips.

"A bed, Boromir! I have a bed! Not moss. Not stone. Not grass. Not a freaking URUK'S SHOULDER. A b-e-d, BED!"

Okay, a little over the top. But believe me, this soft mass of pillows has been in my dreams for about three months. You would yell too.

It's kind of creepy, the funny modern gestures he takes from me. I opened my eyes, and his hands were sitting on his hips. He rolled his eyes, striding toward the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked, considerably more pleasantly.

A small grin hit his face, like he was remembering some inside joke. "In case you didn't know, Slug," he chided, "It's not exactly proper for me to be in here right now. But someone had to wake you before the meeting."

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean, _I don't want to be around when someone finds out I'm in a lady's _bedchambers_ before she's presentable. Especially if that someone is Legolas."

Hmmm, I thought. Now that would be funny…

"Oh, come on! I'm fully clothed…" I grinned wickedly. "Or, I _think _I am." I began to lift the covers off, as if to check.

You should have seen it. I think his face went six shades redder. "Okay," he choked, "Leaving—now."

I laughed loudly, pushing the blanket off (to reveal my fully-clothed self) and promptly forgot my annoyance at being woken up.

"Chill, Babe. I was joking."

"Right." He stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. His ears were still a bit pink. "Well. We have a funeral to attend."

Oh, bugger.

I hate funerals. With a passion.

But, suddenly, I had a much more pressing matter to address.

"Oh, wait!" I said when he turned to leave. "Boromir—_what do I wear_?"

He huffed cutely—the way men do when you ask them to hold your purse while going shopping. I smiled pleadingly. He muttered something that sounds suspiciously like 'women' under his breath, giving an exasperated shrug.

"Fine!" I called after him, pouting, "I suppose I'm on my own, then!"

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Funerals suck. Truly.

When in ended, everyone came inside the hall, sitting down to eat. No one was really in the mood to talk, so it was unbearably silent except for the quiet talk of some of the soldiers and guards.

Geez. You'd think their prince died or something.

Oh, yeah…

The silence was broken when Eowyn came in, ushering two small children onto a bench. They looked exhausted; their faces were smudged with dirt and streaked with tears. These were the ones from the destroyed village. I shook my head in a gesture of sympathy, nudging to Boromir. He turned and his eyes glazed over painfully. Obviously, he knew this was serious.

"Orcs." I whispered simply. Boromir nodded in understanding, guessing who they were.

I sighed. I couldn't even imagine having to leave my home because of war. Maybe not knowing if your family was still whole.

Slowly, the throng of people cleared the hall, and Théoden came in to sit on his throne. The only ones left were the boys, Eowyn, Gandalf, Théoden, and me.

"They had no warning," said Eowyn, stroking the little girl's head. She looked pointedly at Théoden, expecting him to call the army out immediately.

Sorry, girl. Not gonna happen that easy.

"They were unarmed. Now the wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot, and tree."

"Where is Mama?" Beside me, Boromir stiffened.

"Théoden is wasting time," he whispered, so only I could hear. "This isn't going to stop, especially since _she_ went crawling back to Saruman." I nodded, narrowing my eyes at the memory of her blade at my neck. How many others had she threatened with her sword? Children like these? Or was she just a selfish coward who was using the quest to her own ends?

Bickering went on between the three; Gandalf, Théoden, and Aragorn. I thought about interjecting something about Grima and Saruman not expecting them to stay in Meduseld, but Helm's Deep was just too important.

Legolas kept looking at me, waiting for me to say something. He knew I had some sense of forewarning, and hoped I could help with the situation. I shook my head slightly, not wanting to be drawn into it. If I changed anything, that was it. I screw up Middle Earth.

"Open war is upon you. Whether you would _risk_ it or not!" Aragorn finished with a small glare.

Oh crap. Warning: do not piss Théoden off.

If it wasn't Aragorn making the comment, I would think he was an idiot. (Not to say he already wasn't a slight idiot. Future kings certainly are…)

"Last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan!"

C'mon, grandpa. Help him out.

"Then what is the King's decision?" asked Gandalf exasperatedly.

He looked trapped.

Two words. I'll let you guess what he said.

Of course, not bloody anywhere, except—

"Helm's Deep."

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I was back to my room, to ONCE AGAIN, bloody _pack my bags_— Goodbye Bed, pillows, blanket. Sayonara bath (which I had taken the night before) with nice warm water and—

Oh yeah. Back to the story.

I heard muffled voices out in the hall. Pissed off voices. No.

_Livid _voices.

I picked up a few words, and stilled when I heard my name. My heart jumped in my throat. Practically bounding to the door, the voices got progressively louder until they were right outside my room. The dread rocks were back with vengeance.

The voice, which I recognized as Aragorn's, called me angrily out of my room.

I tripped over my feet to get to the hallway.

Yeah, he was _that _scary.

I came out, face to face with Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli.

As I looked at each of them, I sensed a range of emotions.

Not good. Not. Effing. Good.

"What?" I asked rather meekly.

"Elaina," said Aragorn. There was a definite warning in his tone. His eyes were cold.

What the hell did I do? They all just stood there, as if I were about to confess to putting drugs in Théoden's tea or something.

First reaction: It was Haldir. (Trust an elf to frame you at every possible moment in Lothlorien. Even if you _were _the least bit-innocently, I might add- involved in it somehow…)

"What is this?" he finally asked.

He was holding up something.

A book.

Not just any book.

One that had Frodo's face plastered on the front of it, reading 'The Lord of the Rings; The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King.'

Oh.

My.

God.

_My book._

I gasped, trying desperately to fight the urge to grab it defensively from his hands. I was shaking all over.

"I… It's…" I began, clearing my dry throat, "It's not what you think!"

I looked to Gandalf for help. He gave me the _exact _same look my dad did when he found out I had snuck out one night to go to a party with Lindsay.

Disappointment. Like he knew I was smarter than that. It must be a universal thing, with these parental units.

Before I could say anything more, Aragorn shoved it back into my hands.

"_I _never _want to see that again. **Understood**_?" His voice left absolutely no room for any of my words.

I could only nod.

How could I explain myself? To them, I was any of their worst threats— a traitor, a fool, a burden, a risk. _An accident waiting to happen._

What could I say? They certainly wouldn't believe me. I kept silent, praying they would just forget they ever saw it.

Pff. Not bloody likely.

With one last glare, he strode off, leaving the others in his wake. His angry footsteps echoed all the way down the hall, each one loudly sounding in my mind. Gandalf shook his head, going after Aragorn. He turned back to look at me, and for a moment I saw a kindly grandfather looking back at me, about to go and protect me again.

You have no idea how grateful I was then. He left.

I glanced back at Legolas, meeting a pair of painfully blank eyes.

He was summing me up, like before, when I had just met them all. Trying to figure me out, to find if I was really deserving of his trust again.

Which I wasn't. I didn't deserve anyone's trust. I had put them in danger. If the book had somehow gotten into Morwenna's hands, or Saruman's, it would be all over. I would be the crown of Sauron and the downfall of their world.

Obviously in that moment, Legolas found something worth trusting. He threw me a thoughtful— almost soft— look, then patted Gimli on the back. They both left without a word.

I have no idea how long I stood in the doorway of my room. I was barely breathing, barely registering all the questions that hit my mind.

How did the book get out of my things? How had I forgotten it? What would they think I had done?

"Elaina?" came a quiet voice from down the hallway. Someone turned the corner.

It was Boromir.

"Gimli told me…" he began, but stopped. Thank freaking Jesus, Buddha, Rama, Allah— _whoever—_ he didn't look mad, like Aragorn. I really couldn't bear it if Boromir's eyes went icy like Aragorn's did.

"What?" I asked, the jest in my voice weak. "That I'm an incredibly _stupid _jackass and I'm more trouble than I'm worth?" I looked away, trying to keep him from seeing how close I was to crying like a temperamental teenager. "Because I am," I finished. There was a hint of desperation in my voice. For the first time since I had gotten there, I felt the sharp pang of absolute homesickness.

He didn't know what to say. He was just as shocked as I was.

"Well—" he said, looking incredulously at me, "I didn't realize you were so _valuable _to us_."_

I stopped cold.

My eyes met his, and something else tugged at me. Not shame. Not self-pity. Not distress.

Anger.

Mind you, it wasn't well placed. I really had no right to be angered by his words. For all intensive purposes, they were true. I was really quite useless to them. I wasn't a soldier, or a wizard, or someone sought out for their great advice or knowledge. But I had become completely devoted. I wanted to become more than what I was before—a mess of modern teenage shallowness, with nothing to fight for or believe in.

Selfish.

I wanted to be like them, like the soldiers, and the wizards. Someone with a purpose other than to convert oxygen into carbon-dioxide and use up the world's supply of fossil fuels. Someone who could be proud of their life.

Most of all, I wanted to be like him. Like Boromir—the ultimate hero.

So, I was pissed off. In fact, a bit beyond pissed off.

You can imagine my reaction when I was basically told 'Hey, I thought you were just here to tag along. You weren't actually supposed to _mean_ anything to us…'

I snapped from my reverie, slamming the door on his unreadable face.

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I was alone in my room, and I hurled the book into the fireplace with all the strength I had.

I had one thought.

_I wanted to leave._

I couldn't stand another minute there. All the wonder, the _awe_ at being there began to wear off. I couldn't stand staying, thinking I was just dead weight. I needed to be alone, away from anyone who didn't understand my frustration. Because, truthfully, I was thinking of only how terribly easy it would be for me to go back to my old shallow life at home. I didn't want to be that selfish person anymore, but I remembered just how easy it was to be that way.

So, as you now realize, I made a pretty stupid decision.

_I wasn't staying there another minute._

As soon as I could, I was leaving.

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TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: Hahaha. I laugh in your shocked face.

Then again- sorry. I had to do it… this story needs more juicy conflict… And Elaina isn't one for rational thinking. Be real.

Please review! I LOVE to hear reviews. It makes me want to write more when I get a review! (So, review… Duh!)

Oh, and don't worry. Her Highness, the Sue, makes an appearance VERY soon. Can you guess why? Hint: I am grinning wickedly right now.


	22. And Off Again to Certain Doom

--Boromir's POV--

"I didn't realize you were so _valuable _to us."

Of all the damned half-witted, ludicrous, _moronic_ words—

I just had to say something like that.

_Just brilliant, _I think to myself. Not that I have ever been renowned for my astounding rhetoric. That's more of Faramir's talent, actually. But, something like this? I bit my tongue.

I watched her harden with anger, and those eyes that so often held a mirthful glow now looked fierce. For a few moments, our faces locked. I couldn't move, really. It was like the heat from her anger was holding me in place.

Which also meant that I lost my chance to amend my meaning. Before I opened my mouth again, she had darted into her chambers and I was left in the hall with only the smart snap of the door closing.

New phrase of the week: Think before you speak.

The world would be a much better place. Eru knows _I _should comprehend that by now.

I sighed, running my hands over my face.

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"Just give her some time, lad. The girl's bound to come back around." Gimli said, patting the bench beside him. "Nothin's ever kept her before."

I sat down next to him. "You didn't see her face," I argued back. Legolas closed his eyes, and if he wasn't an elf I would say his deep breath was an aggravated sigh. _Odd, _I think, _How well we read each other now. Before, we were all closed books. _Except Elaina, of course. She had always worn her emotions on her sleeve. Anyone else would've seemed a fool or a simpleton, but with her— it was surprisingly endearing.

"That bad?" asked Legolas. I nodded. "Well," he muttered, "It wasn't _just _you, Boromir. Rather, all of us actually. Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen Aragorn _stomp _like an erratic child before. Sometimes I forget, but… it reminds me that he's centuries younger than I am."

Damned elves and their damned immortality. It's like conversing with a rock.

Ugh, I need rest. Even my thoughts sound irritable.

"I'm not going to be able to sleep if I know she's still angry with me," I said finally, shaking my head. "I'm going to talk to her."

I waved a good-night, heading back towards Elaina's rooms.

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--Gimli's POV--

The elf makes a very undignified snort. He's carving something (showy elvish symbols, no doubt) into a beam in the side of the hall.

"Does he not realize that he would lose sleep over her whether she was angry or not?" he asks lightly, chuckling.

"Daft. Lad's not known for using his head. Outside the battle field, anyhow." I grin back, thinking of the way Boromir pushed himself running after her, when the Uruks snatched the lass. Didn't miss a beat nearly sprinting three leagues. Guilt can do wonders, but it can't drive a man like that. Somethin' curious was happenin', and the elf and I had a front row seat to it.

So, why not? May as well sit back and enjoy it.

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--And, back to Boromir's POV--

She wasn't answering her door. The first few knocks, I couldn't really blame her. But, really, after the _eleventh _knock you'd think she realized I wasn't going away without explaining myself. _Women_.

A serving-woman turned the corner, stopping when she sees me gradually lose it outside Elaina's room.

"She's not in there, my lord," said the girl.

Not in there?

"Where?"

"The stables, last I saw. She went to take her horse out for some exercise, or the like."

I breathed out, relieved.

So _why _do I still have a bad feeling in my gut?

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She wasn't back yet.

I had waited in the stables for just past an hour. And she _still _wasn't back yet. My panicked mind started jumping to all sorts of horrible conclusions, but I willed myself to calm down. There was only a certain number of things that could have occurred. One (in fact, the situation my instinct first focused on) was that she had run away. But I hardly thought, after breathing solidly a few times, that she would be so dense as to go out, alone with no where else to go.

Or, maybe she would.

_Orc shit._

_That_ seemed to be the first thing that came (as a coherent thought) when I realized she wasn't coming back. Which was followed by some other colorful and obscene phrases that I had heard Elaina use—I blame myself for her sharpened tongue, as I was the one who went sparring with her. I would give all the white marble in Minas Tirith to hear a lady of Gondor use that sort of language. Really.

That ominous feeling I had managed to dull came back full force. I made the choice, then and there, to go after her.

Eru damn me if _anything_ had already happened to her.

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--Legolas' POV--

"They're _both _gone!"

Ah, that would be Estel.

The dwarf and I exchanged a quick glance, when he and Gandalf came stalking in. I leaned back, finishing the last of my breakfast and readying myself for the interrogation. Gimli growled, taking the foul-smelling pipe from his mouth to do the same.

"What did you say?" I asked, "Are you talking about who I think you are?"

He ignored me, plopping down onto a bench (as much as a king can), rubbing his temples. He was muttering something that sounded strangely like 'I've never seen a worse day…' And despite my worry, I could not help but smirk at his ruffled state. This is the man who usually held everything together- our leader. Now that Gandalf was back, I think he took a bit of rest from that. Obviously.

"It's my fault," he said finally, and gave me a self-aggravated stare. "I was harsh. I scared her away. She and Boromir could be dead, or _worse._"

I snorted. Unlikely, that Elaina would allow herself to… admit any defeat of sorts. Quite the opposite. And with the young steward at her heels, she would come to no harm. _That_ I knew.

"So what are we going to do?" barked Gimli.

Gandalf sighed, running his hands over his staff. He looked calm, as though he already knew what was going to happen. "Nothing. We can do nothing for them. We leave in an hour for Helm's Deep. It will be hard looking for them; no man can be spared. I must trust that they will not run into any trouble and look after each other. That is all that hope calls for."

I trusted Mithrandir, but there was a few parts in his plan that didn't quite sit well in my mind. Like the part about doing nothing.

"Foolish, foolish _children_ they are. Were they not part of our fellowship, I would banish them to Angmar myself." Gandalf shook his head and patted Estel on the back. "Come, we leave very soon."

I gave a quiet laugh, praying to Elbereth that they would be there to meet us at Helm's Deep.

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A/N: Ok, then, this one was fun to write. Don't worry, though, we get back to Elaina in the next chapter. I have many wicked plans…

REPLIES TO REVIEWS- YAY!

GreenleafisMINE: Heheh, yeah being raised among Gondorrian ladies… well, let's just say Elaina's a bit of a change from those old fashioned girls. modesty and all… But really, can't have her messing up her honor. Yet… (We'll just wait till they break out the wine… lol). Yes, poor Aragorn is at the end of his rope. Good thing Legolas and his elvish smarts are there. Bloody gorgeous elves. Grumble grumble.

Elwing-Evenstar: Thanks so much. I LOVE it when my readers leave me questions. It means I'm doing my job. You'll see in the next chapter. Wink.

Cheez Socks: Yes, I do! Sorry, it's just so fun. Thanks so much for the review—I totally agree. I was just _sick to death _of all those EMO Mary-Sues who had one emotion on their list. I mean, people's feelings CHANGE. We aren't just broken records. Especially in such a versatile environment as middle earth!

Heheh, here's a platonic hug- hugs.

ArwenEvenstar: Don't be worried, girl, your questions WILL be answered. And SSSHHH! Is it that obvious? Well, good, right on target. So much drama! I love making them suffer (with considerable doses of joy, of course. ;) Thanks!

Kris: Thanks, I love being praised. No, I am NOT vain. Be quiet… well, maybe a LITTLE vain… anyway, the chapters are coming out like wildfire, so keep on reading!

Prettygoblinprincess: Aaaww, thanks! hugs back By the way, your name wouldn't have anything to do with Labyrinth, would it?

Sugar-High pixie: Well, it all depends on how you classify a Mary sue. Most of them suck, but occasionally you'll find a gem. Thanks!

Sorry if I did not get the chance to reply to your review… FFN works in mysterious ways. shakes head and makes fist at FFN.

More to come! Please review!


	23. A Walk Down Crazy Street

**Chapter 23: A Walk Down Crazy Street**

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Stupid!

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You know, sometimes it's hard to shut your conscience up. Like right now. I think my inner-voice **wants **me to commit suicide. Right now it's beginning to scream a range of really interesting obscenities and various parts of the anatomy. Yes, that is what happens when you spar with warriors. My money was on Boromir for the most intriguing curses (him being all macho war-dude and hard-bitten soldier) , but I was caught off guard when Pippin thwacked Merry on his hairy hobbit toe.

Hoo, boy. I have yet to figure out what a _'Tûg Ceredir'_ (!) is, but I saw enough delicate elvish eyebrows raise to new heights to know that Merry probably would not have said that in civil conversation. Haldir nearly choked on his morning lembas.

But any cursing my little Jiminy Cricket is yelling to me right now, I probably deserve. Perhaps. A little bit.

Okay. A lot.

I had currently given up on riding, as McFlurry (spur-of-the-moment name), my horse, was getting a little tired. So I dismounted and began to lead the rein on foot. It's not like it mattered, though. I was utterly, completely, and undoubtedly lost. My closest guess was somewhere in the rough and dangerous countryside of Rohan; no food, no supplies, no freaking _weapon. _What was my mind saying again?

Oh yeah. Stupid.

I hadn't thought of anything in the moment I decided to leave. It was a choice based on pure selfishness, and a strong desire for home and familiarity which I had never really had the chance to get in Middle Earth. Homesickness was a bitch, and now that same bitch was coming back to bite me right in the butt. And kill me by way of:

A) Morwenna and her goonies. They were still out there, and there was more than enough chance that if she found me I would become cease to be the very stupid, yet very alive Elaina and become _Haudh-en-Elaina. _For those of you that don't really know any elvish, you might get the picture if I mention dirt mounds, bones, and a lot of other unpleasant things. See now?

B) Starvation, death by the extreme elements, consumption by wild animals and/or wargs, and any other sucky slow or violent death you can think of. Not as likely as option A, but still a definite possibility.

And C) Dangerously low levels of caffeine. The eventual shutdown of basic functions, basically. Extreme malfunction of motor skills, organs, and the nervous system. Did I mention I really miss my job at Starbucks now? I would take orders from all the inconsiderate consumers, annoying preteens, and coffee-based workaholics right now if I could have ONE damned caffeinated vanilla frappuccino. With whipped cream.

I think I'm getting a bit delusional now. You may see that.

The point is, I had thought of none of those things when I so recklessly wandered off into the wild. And now I was cold, scared, and on the point of a mental breakdown. I had very nearly lost my new friends and their trust, been insulted by the man I had gradually come to like more than I cared to admit, and was now in a possibly _worse, _no; _**undeniably** worse _situation than before. Because, right now or in the very near future, I could die.

Just like that, my life—which had barely begun—could be over.

Dammit, Elaina! You will _not _cry! Repeat to yourself: You will _not_ cry!

Too late.

"Elaina!"

And THAT is the best way to make a bad moment worse. Just when I start to show a bit of weakness, the person I wanted to see least in the world (and consequently the most, though I didn't want to admit it) came waltzing over to see me tearing up like some poor sod Mary Sue wanting a little sympathy from the mean, cruel world. As if I deserved anyone's sympathy.

God, why do you hate me?

Not a valid question, but then and there it seemed pretty damned relevant. Nothing is more satisfying when you're angry at the world than blaming it on someone, _anyone _but yourself. Even if it is an all-wise and all-good entity.

"Thank Erú," he breathed, hastily dismounting his own horse. I saw the pure relief in his face as he nearly sprinted over to me, and couldn't keep from feeling a little guilty about not wanting to see Boromir. He had obviously been looking for me and seemed genuinely happy to find me. Maybe I wasn't turning into the butt of some Vala's mean joke. But as soon as the little feeling of contentment left me, I turned away from him and wiped my wet cheeks with my sleeve. McFlurry nudged me a little bit.

Okay, I know a divine hint when I see one.

(Or feel one in the form of a horse's muzzle practically jabbing my elbow.) Erú works in mysterious ways.

Still— my temper and not-so-nice mood was pushing me, and in the battle between relief and intense anger, I'm pretty friggin' sure the anger won. I turned to face him, aware that my eyes were probably red and puffy and my attitude was a little cold.

"Why did you come after me, Boromir?" I asked, my voice strained even to my own ears. "You really shouldn't risk yourself. After all, you're the one they need, right?" _Stop_, my head said. _Right now, before you hurt him_.

Do I ever listen to the voice of reason?

And somewhere inside me the shoulder-angel snorted in a very undignified way and shook its head.

"After all," I continued, "What would it mean to lose me anyway? No, I'll just get out of your way. We both have jobs to do, and I've reali—"

He stepped directly in front of me, taking the reins gently but very firmly from my hands. I saw him stiffen with some emotion, and there was an exhaustion and bitter note in his stance that I hadn't noticed before.

"_Why do you say things like that_?" hissed Boromir. His voice was very quiet, and I finally looked him straight in the eye. I realized his voice wasn't dangerously low because he was hurt--but because he was furiously angry.

There are some moments when all of your naivety, selfishness, and silly fits of useless antagonism hit you hard, and all in one breath.

I _**hate** _those moments.

Erú help me, I couldn't keep from bursting in tears any more.

When they say 'emotional collapse', they really mean it. I sunk down on the rough grass cross-legged, putting my head in my arms and letting it all out in wracking sobs. Highly illogical, but at that moment it was all I could do. I was tired of feeling sucky. And right now, a good cry was probably the only thing that would clear my head.

I don't know when I first noticed that Boromir had knelt down beside me and put his arms around me. I felt like a little kid, sniffling into someone's chest, clutching at his shirt for dear life, but it was a time I won't ever look back on with mortification or embarrassment or anything like that. It was all very comforting; knowing someone wanted me to be happy and was making an effort to soothe me. It all seemed very…

Right. Almost Natural.

Woah, bad Elaina. Only _one_ huge emotional epiphany per day, please. Not getting into _**that**._

When all the sobs faded to hiccups and my breathing was once again even, I pulled back a little to look at his wet shirt. I gave a little watery chuckle. When I looked up at his face, he was smiling worriedly.

Oh great. Now I had him all worried that I was insane. Or mentally unstable.

I was probably both.

"I'm sorry," I said clearly, wiping my eyes. I laughed a little again. Hopefully, he saw that I wasn't going to swing into another crazy outburst. I tried to calm down. "That's never really happened before."

Apparently he realized I was finished, because he chuckled quietly and pulled me to my feet. I shook off all the leftovers of emotion, pulling him into a tight hug that spoke my gratitude.

"Oomph," was all he said in a muffled voice. Now I laughed louder. My arms released their grip, and I felt more carefree than I had in a long time.

To all those self-pitying or depressed, angry and grief-stricken, I have only one thing to say to you: Have a good cry. Watch a sad movie, bust out the Kleenexes and find a poor soul to cling to like a barnacle. Trust me on this. I know.

I could only smile back as Boromir shook his head, a slow grin spreading over his face.

"Though I shall keep in mind that that was a very beneficial emotional release," he said, still a little baffled, "I have to request that you warn me before the next one comes."

I looked at him— from the top of his dark head, to his young face lit up with a handsome smile, to his hands crossed over his chest, and to his feet set apart in a posture that said he was regarding me with faint curiosity, like I was a Rubik's Cube or a 1000-piece puzzle.

This was something Tolkien, PJ, or anyone else could never describe.

And this time, it wasn't sobs that wracked my stomach painfully— it was pure, absurd laughter.

Yes, I realize now that sometimes, life is **_weird_**.

Fucking _creepy _too.

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We were on our way back now to Meduseld. Boromir told me that if we hurried we would make it there before everyone began to pack up for Helm's Deep. I was relieved, if a little nervous, to go back and face the rest of them. For all the crazy things I had ever done, this had certainly been the worst as far as I remembered. And the fact that none of them probably gave half a damn that we were missing stung a little too. I mean, I knew that the people of Rohan came first and all, but I had expected _someone _to be out here looking for us. I was gone for less than a few hours and only Boromir alone had found me (easily, he said, because my horse's tracks were very clear) and in a very short amount of time. Would it really have killed them to send anyone out to find me?

'Stop being pessimistic,' that little inner voice said with a little more strength than before. I was more than happy to listen. You would be too if you were sick to death of crying and anger and all that jazz.

And I remained in that little state somewhere between content and giddy.

Right up until I looked over to see a slender silver arrow driven into Boromir.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am totally giving you all evil grins right now. HA HA! I can see your face!

Really, guys, trust me! There's been enough crying for now. Don't get too pissy at me…

Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter. May I remind (okay, _command_) you to press that lovely review button again?

Muchas gracias to anyone who provides me with feedback and presents good questions to me (TinNim, that is NOT a stupid question. Unfortunately you'll just have to wait and see… wink wink).

I feel the flow of inspiration right now, and this chapter is very odd, I think—but I like it, I think. I'm really trying to go deeper into the mind here. What is writing for, anyway?

And I know I promised a piece of Mary Sue vs. Elaina in this chapter, but Elaina and her damn mood swings got in the way. And a little Boromir.

(Shakes fist at both of them, who like to hog the spotlight. Somewhere backstage Morwenna is sulking about, trying to cheer herself by sneaking into Legolas' dressing room.)

Anyway, there will be an update soon, so please do not threaten my life in any way.

PS- I'll give a gold star to anyone who can figure out what a _tûg ceredir _is. Hint: It is Sindarin. And most definitely obscene. :D


	24. Escapes and Transformations

Oh HELL no.

She did not.

_She did._

I heard a faint growl of anger, and it took me a moment to figure that _I_ had made that sound. Boromir, whose eyes had widened and were searching around for the attacker, had only been hit in the arm. I'm lucky he is a seasoned warrior, because right now I was in freak out mode. I can't tell you how panicked I would have been if I had suddenly seen three great black arrows in him— but right now, knowing I had kept fate—or destiny or whatever the hell it was before— from killing him the way he died in the books, I forced myself to accept the fact his death was no longer a certainty.

His stance was more reassuring than anything else. Apparently, he felt well enough to rip the sucker right out of his arm without turning a hair.

Dang. A bit anti-climactic, don't you think?

I can tell you now I am SO glad I was born a girl. Therefore I am allowed to gag at such things. Which I almost did.

He kept looking around, trying to find the source of the arrow, meanwhile grabbing my horse's rein and pushing me very firmly and rapidly towards him without a second glance. "Get on," he said in a matter-of-factly voice. Funny, it was almost businesslike. But I guess it is all just business when your fillout on applications for former employment is Captain of Gondor.

Boromir's leg swung over the saddle. And another arrow barely missed his head.

_Shit. _We are so screwed right now.

Boromir stopped, mid-movement. Frozen on the saddle, he seemed to forget that our need was more pressing than a halt to admire the great outdoors. But the reason he had come to a halt was a bit more serious. He looked at something- or someone- over my shoulder and scowled, motioning the 'don't move' signal.

"Out for an early morning walk?"

_God_, her voice is annoying.

We were surrounded, and I have no idea how. One minute, it was just me and Boromir, the next moment she and a rabble of about six or seven Uruks all formed a circle around us. Morwenna was smirking, and for a single, blinding instance I had the overwhelming urge to slap her in the face.

Boromir sat up straight in his saddle, not daring to move. "Yes, actually," he said through gritted teeth. His eyes flashed dangerously, and every so often a quick gaze would flicker over to me in a warning sign. "Just waiting for the Riders of Rohan. They're due here about right now. If you leave now, you may yet live. Théoden King is not as forgiving as I am."

I admired his cold bravery in the face of the enemy, but really— witty defiance is much more of my style.

I felt a stony smile spread across my face, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Or maybe you'll be too late, and he'll get to you anyway. Lucky for Grima, they let him go." I sighed, as if bored by the whole thing. "Not this time, Sweetie." I made myself sound as unruffled as possible. "The king wants revenge, and I doubt anyone will put a word in for you. I imagine your head would look good mounted on the wall of Meduseld."

Her smirk faded, but Boromir threw me a withering look. He obviously believed in the hostage-negotiation approach.

_Pfff. Yeah_, like she was letting us go. I'm sure she'd love to see me beg before killing me, but I wasn't going to oblige her.

In an instant, she had the Uruk nearest to me forcing me off the horse, and I stumbled from the saddle to the ground. Boromir paled a little, suddenly looking afraid. Trying to give him a comforting smile really didn't work, as I was currently being tied up and gagged.

Sometimes I fucking **hate** my life.

And there are other times I love it— like when Boromir takes the Sue by surprise and pulls out a sword to hack at the Uruk trying to bind my wrists.

In effect, giving me the time to get out of the way as said hacking continues. Alas, it was over all too quickly.

Seven fully pissed Uruk-Hai to a pair of exhausted humans (one without any weapon) was not really in our favor. After a few seconds of heroic but useless clashing, one had Boromir pinned down on the ground, a blade pressed sharply to his throat. He looked completely calm, as if he had not just attempted suicide. But he was much too drawn than I cared to see him. The poor guy was tired, and injured. His arm was still bleeding, and he winced at the slightest movement of his face— in that little scramble he had acquired a new cut above his eyebrow, one that looked pretty frigging painful.

"Don't kill him." Growled Morwenna, "We need him too. He's the prince of Gondor, and a good bargaining piece."

Prince? How much more of a bimbo could she be?

From that same little pouch before, she grabbed a handful of sparkling dust.

There was a flash of silver, then my vision clouded over and I was out.

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When I opened my eyes again, I immediately saw pink.

Uurghghg, pink _everywhere_. I mean, I'm a girl that likes the occasional pink something or other, but this? Everywhere I looked, pink walls (a tent, as far as I could guess. Were we in an army camp?) pink trunks, pink fuzzy rugs, couches, chairs, a floor length pink-lined _mirror, _of course, and complete with an open fuchsia armoire complete with a ridiculously immaculate wardrobe.

Gee, do you think pink is her favorite color?

And then I noticed a slight movement on the fuzzy rug beside me.

_Boromir._ What a relief.

He still looked peaky. Worse than before. And though his arm had stopped bleeding, I knew it was hurting him by the way he lay on his other side. He was breathing evenly, but in his unconscious he frowned as if having a bad dream.

Damn him, I was worried. Things had gotten much, much more unsettling, because I knew Her Highness had no intention of letting me escape again. _And_, I had dragged Boromir in it.

But, even worse was the fact that I had put him in harm's way, without pausing to consider that even though he had avoided death at Amon Hen, it was still a very real possibility. A scary one, and a possibility I had NO intention of even considering— but one that wouldn't go away just because I refused to see it as reality. I was scared.

And just when I had started to be happy.

I always choose 'the opportune moment,' don't I?

"Damn."

Seriously, listen to what I am saying. MIDDLE EARTH SUCKS. Not the locations, the famous heroes and people, or the kickass history— but the process of the whole 'saving the world against incredibly depressing odds' thing— incredibly **sucks**.

Boromir stirred beside me, and I leaned over him to see if he was alright. He opened his eyes gradually, blinking himself awake enough to push me further away with his good arm. He sat up, stretching and throwing me a discontented stare.

"You know," he said casually, with the barest hint of amusement in his tone, "I don't much care for the warrior life anymore. Every time I get trapped in another damned quest to save posterity, it always ends up biting me in the ass." He smiled slightly. "Or the ego."

"Take up baking." I replied, pretending to be deeply in thought. "I hear kneading the hell out of dough is great for stress-relief."

We both sat there, smiling at the irony of it all.

Just then I remembered his near-fatal suicidal attack on that Uruk. Curiosity got the better of me.

"Why did you attack her when we were outnumbered?" I asked carefully, "Did I miss a cue or something? Was I supposed to jump on the horse and abandon you to a valiant and self-sacrificing death or something?" I frowned. "Because I wouldn't ever go for that, you know."

He smirked a little at my frank words.

"No," he admitted, "But I did fear for you. At the moment, though, I was presently in an unpleasant mood. And I had the sudden desire to _lash out_ at something. I knew her arrow came here," and he beckoned his arm, "for a good reason. She wanted both of us alive, it appears. I suppose I'm to be ransomed off for a price, being the 'Prince of Gondor' apparently. That's news to _me_, anyway." He gave a rugged grin. "It seemed a good idea at the time."

"Cool," I said approvingly, amazed that it wasn't only me who acted on impulse. To meet this great man who at his very best seemed perfect and at his least a noble and good-intentioned person, actually be the one making spur-of-the-moment moves—I can only say that I felt much better.

But in a moment, Boromir's smile had shifted into a confused frown. He narrowed his eyes, very obviously scrutinizing me.

"Are your eyes in the habit of periodically changing colors?"

"_What!" _

He looked straight at me, then turned to look around the room for a makeshift mirror. Obviously, there was no need. I found three of them in the span of fifteen seconds.

Vain little witch.

Anyway, I walked over to the floor length mirror, focusing on my own eyes.

Oh.

Wow. My eyes were _never_ purple. I would know.

"What the _hell_!" I gasped, squinting. I needed glasses. Or this was a joke. Boromir would start laughing and say 'Ha, I got you! They're Contacs!' anytime now. I turned back to him. Nope. No such luck. He was still as bewildered as I was.

For a few moments, I just stared—dumbfounded as to why my eyes were changing. And to _purple_, of all colors.

"Elaina," he murmured, "Your hair…"

"What?" I shrieked. _Freaking out. Freaking out. What the hell is happening to me?_

"It's… redder!"

No. It's just the tent. It just looks that way. No way am I changing.

Sure enough, my once perfectly plain brown hair was taking on an auburn-ish hue, and I could see a few orangy highlights picked up by the light.

"Oh, GOD!" I moaned, finally realizing. I threw my head in my hands to the amusement of a very baffled Boromir. Is it just me, or does my nose look a bit smaller? And my lips were never this… full. _Damn_. Damn that Mary Sue to an eternity of pissed off canon-writers and a thousand angry Thranduil's!

"What is it?" he asked, and I almost smacked him when I could detect more than a hint of laughter in his tone. I looked up. Sure enough, his face was set in a serious mask, but the corners of his mouth twitched as though he was about to burst out laughing.

"This is not funny, Boromir!" I growled. "She is turning me into one of _THEM!"_

"Who?" He asked innocently.

"You may think it's funny now, but when I suddenly up and GLOMP you to death, you'll wish you didn't."

He could not hold it in anymore. He erupted in howling laughter, clutching his sides for air. When he caught his breath, he wiped his eyes and looked at me with raised eyebrows and a grin playing on his lips. "Do I want to know what a 'glomp' is?"

I met his eyes, trying my best to sound as severe as I could.

"Not unless you want a horde of jealous fangirls to tear me limb from limb."

Of course, he didn't understand. But I think I made it pretty clear that this was not the time to be talking about any actions of glomping.

"She must've put some sort of spell on me," I began. "It's all way too… _clichéd._ I mean, I _like_ my ugly face. I don't want to up become a freaking Mary Sue!" Oh yes, there was a definite note of panic somewhere in there.

"_Really_, Elaina, your face is _not_ ugly. Quite the opposite, actually. And what in Arda is a Mary Sue?" I glared at him, but was surprised when I saw no trace of sarcasm or humor in his face. He ignored my annoyance, waiting for my answer.

I sighed. He really wasn't helping. "You wouldn't understand if I told you."

"Try me."

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Fifteen minutes later, Boromir stood with his arms across his chest, hearing of how the world of young writers changed the course of his life enough times to make him want to actually just die in peace from all those nice black Uruk arrows.

Evaluation for a Mr. Boromir, currently in permanent residence in Minas Tirith, Gondor.

Slightly shocked: Check.

A bit skeptical: Check.

Freaked out: Check.

Well, I think that covers it. You can only imagine it was news to them that he was involved in angst-slashy love with Aragorn, survived the war to marry the lovely younger daughter of Elrond, or ended up taking the ring, overcoming its power, and saving the world with it. Of course, I didn't tell him all of this. It might be a little overwhelming. But he knew the bare facts of the matter.

"So," he said, drawing the word out. It was more of a '_Soooo…' When in the hell did the world get this crazy… _kind of thing. It wasn't helping me right now, that Boromir currently thought I was just as insane as the loony holding us prisoner in her pink tent of death.

"Listen," I began, trying not to blush from mortification any more than I was. How do you expect someone to believe you when you've told them… you, oh—came from the future/and/or/another dimension where people think you're a made up character in a fantasy book and play around with your life via Luckily, he did not just slap me to see if I wasn't delirious or something.

He took a deep breath, and looked me in the eye. "Ok," he said evenly, "If that is what you say, I believe you."

Thank you, Jesus/Allah/God/Buddha/insert deity.

But we still had the problem of actually getting out of there.

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"What do you say?" I asked him, after another hour pacing and brainstorming. He observed me from his seat on the floor, grimacing when his arm accidentally brushed the large trunk he was leaning on. I frowned. "It's all we've got for now. We have limited time. My guess is she gets us out of here before dawn, and if we have any chance to get away it's going to be when we're still in Rohan."

He nodded. "It's a good plan. A little risky, but then, all escapes are. It's the best we have." Boromir gave me a small smile of encouragement when he saw my grim face.

Really, though, even Morwenna wasn't stupid. This was going to be hard.

The warrior in Boromir suddenly returned, his ears detecting more than I could hear. His face was set, and he brought his hand up to his ear to signal to me. I listened carefully, but it wasn't necessary.

She was back.

A shriek of delight brought me back to my senses, and I swiveled around to the entrance of the tent. Her Highness, ridiculous dress and jewels and all, stood with her arms crossed over her chest. There was an absolutely infuriating smirk on her face.

Seriously, then and there, I wanted to bitch-slap the smugness right off it. She sneered at my disheveled appearance.

"Rough night, little fangirl?"

I winced.

"You know what?" my voice was shaking with pent-up anger, and I couldn't help but think that she was annoying me so much I almost wanted to physically attack something with a pair of pinking shears. _Almost. _"It's not _really_… no wait, it's actually _completely _notfunny when you're using sarcasm." I turned to Boromir, who was looking on with an expression caught between amused and disapproving. "Please, Boromir, _tell _me I'm not this fucking _aggravating_ when I'm being sarcastic!"

He caught the laugh before it came out. Instead, a small cough erupted from his lips, making him bend over to fend off the giggles. Yes, giggles. The son of the Steward, Captain of Gondor's army—fighting off not orcs, but laughter.

The Sue turned toward him. "_You_ won't have to worry about her anymore, Princeling." A vague smile hit her face. "You see the transformation, do you not? I thought it fitting, being that soon enough she will be my slave, and one of us. I can't have her embarrassing me with her own ugly face, now can I? I won't stand for an unattractive army of my own kind"

What the hell! _Army? _A fucking _army _of Mary sues? This just gets better every second.

"… Although, I might just not be so merciful. I admit I'd much rather see her dead. But I pity her own unsightliness."

I snorted. And flipped the bird. "Pity that, you cheap tart." Ouch. Maybe I was a _little_ harsh.

_Nah._

Morwenna was not amused. In fact, she was anti-amused. Livid, more like it.

"You little witch!" she howled. I couldn't help but think of the five year old I had to baby-sit every Tuesday night. She sounded astoundingly like the demon child Anna, after I took away her Barney privileges for kicking me in the shins. (Which was totally uncalled for. I actually _do_ try to be nice when I look after the ankle-biters.) Anna's response? Rip off the head of her favorite Barbie.

I couldn't help but be afraid that the Mary Sue's reaction would be the same.

"I… You!" she sputtered. "When all this is over, I'm not even going to give you the pleasure of killing you. You'll be the first slave on the road to Mordor! And you will beg me to bring you death!"

"So _dramatic_…" I muttered under my breath, but just loud enough for her to hear. "Really, all this stress can't be good for that pimple."

She froze. She turned.

Her eyes freaking _popped out of their sockets._

Don't take that literally. Her eyes were still there in her head. But believe me when I say—that was **not** a smart thing I had just brought to her attention.

And, like that, she screamed shrilly and was gone in a 'poof.' No more death threats, wailing, or smirking. But I'm pretty sure she was clutching her face when she left.

I turned around to face Boromir, currently trying to get air after his burst of insane laughter. I smiled.

"It always works," I told him imperiously, and gave him a moment for him to catch his breath.

When he stopped shaking, he breathed deeply and patted my back. "You know, your metamorphosis is a bit disconcerting. I think, the sooner we get away, the sooner it wears off."

I groaned. "Please, don't remind me. I just love to hear how I'm turning into the next full scale 'attack of the clones.'

He flashed a small, wistful smile at me.

"We must go." And with that, our plan was set in motion.

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**Ominous twilight zone music Twenty minutes later!**

"You, there!"

The orc in question woke up with a start.

"Were you just _sleeping_? Outside the prisoners' tent, on the _job_?"

Said orc scratched his head in a profound gesture, reluctantly nodding to the hooded and cloaked mistress. She had the prisoner, the Gondor-man tied up and trailing behind her.

"They could've gotten away, you dolt-headed worm!"

'Stupid mistress.' Thought poor random orc. 'Cares more about her _hair_ than her world domination plans. She's was wearing a pink frilly _dress_, for Sauron's sake! Where did the world of evil go wrong?'

"Prepare the horse! I have orders from Isengard."

The orc paused. "Pardon meh, mistress, but wouldn't it be faster if yeh used that nice silver powder?"

For a moment, the mistress stopped. Bad news for random orc.

"BECAUSE," she shrieked. Poor random orc could now see why Sauron employed her. "I'VE GONE AND WASTED IT ALL ONE THOSE IDIOT PRISONERS! I CAN'T EVEN FIND MY RIDING DRESS!"

It took the orc a full half-second to scurry off with a squeak to prepare the horse.

When he came back, the mistress was tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. She grabbed the reins, hoisting herself on the horse. She still held the rope bound to the prisoner's wrists, so he was forced to do the same.

"Now, you," she said contemptuously to the man, "Any attempts to escape will only get you a one-way trip to Mandos."

Orc shuffled like he didn't want to be there at the moment.

"And you," she addressed the orc. "Don't you _dare_ let the girl prisoner escape! She's a sneaky bitch."

He nodded uncomfortably.

The two rode off into the early hours of morning, leaving poor little random orc to go to sleep at his post again.

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My panic was returning.

"I don't know where we're going, Boromir!"

We had just passed the 'okay' point to be ourselves, out of earshot and sight from the small camp. We encountered no one else, but I couldn't help but be on edge. If we were caught a third time, I was positive I would die young.

"Stop the horse," he commanded softly. I did just that, and the warrior dismounted and untied his hands. I got off, nearly ripping off that ridiculous purple cloak that was in one of Morwenna's trunks. It was heavy, probably made of some dead-weight fabric like velvet or something. Boromir remounted, beckoning me to get on behind him.

Before I took his hand, I noticed the shadows under his eyes.

"Boromir?"

He looked down at his forearm, distracted, rubbing it with a slow movement, but it dropped back beside him. He very nearly swayed in the saddle.

Oh my god! He was about to pass out!

"_Boromir_? Come on, I need you to stay conscious until we figure the way to Helm's Deep."

He snapped back to reality, nodding with a lethargic wave of the head. His voice was frighteningly quiet, very strained.

"See that star?" and he pointed up in the sky. "That's Eärendil. It shines from the west, so we need only follow it along the mountains until we get there. We were not that far west from Edoras, so we have not passed the great fortress yet." He tried to give me a smile, but it looked more like a painful grimace. "We should be there by twilight today."

I nodded.

Climbing back behind him, I could not help feel a small wave of dread come over me as we rode to Helm's Deep.

Boromir was out cold within the hour.

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**-A/N-**

**Yay! Another chapter finished! Longer than I expected, but I guess that's a good thing. A nice, fat, almost-end-of-the-year present for all of us still in school. Eleven days until I am free! **

**Which means, free to write at any time of the day. (Woot!)**

**Anywho, for anyone who reviewed the last chapter go here-**

http/ andi-scribbles .livejournal. com/** (Remove the spaces)**

**Sorry, just banned replies to individual reviews in chapters. But I did reply! My livejournal is where I will be posting review replies from now on. The link to my LJ is also in my profile.**

**Please review!**

**PS- TWO THINGS**

**The stuff about Eärendil is all true. I actually did research. Who would've thought?**

**AND, the winner of the Elvish obscenities contest IIIISSSS….. (drum roll)….**

**Or rather, ARE**

TinNim **and **starofdunedain! **Gold stars to you both!** **To collect your prize, please email me (the link can be found on my profile page) or PM me. Thanks to everyone else who participated.**

**The elvish words _'__Tûg Ceredir' _mean "fat maker/doer/creator." The latter refers to the derivation of the word for 'penis.' As in, penisa creator.**

**Lol, as soon as I find the link to Elvish obscenities, it will be posted.**

**Once again, you will now hit the review button….**

**--Andie**

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	25. Arrival at Helm's Deep

Chapter 25

"Open the gate!"

Someone's shout rang out from the stone walls, and on the wall I thought I could see a dwarf and an elf sitting side by side. I couldn't actually be sure, though—I was panicking. Boromir had fallen into a sleep. A very _frightening_ sleep, for me anyway. He sat cold and still in front of me in the saddle, breathing in a very shallow and labored rhythm. I tried my best to keep him propped up, so he wouldn't slip off the horse and injure himself anymore. Leaving me very little room to grab the reins, I had to hold his arm and chest against me. How we had ever gotten this far, I'll never know. As the gate opened and we trotted in, some random soldier led the horse. All around people began to crowd, trying to see who we were. I looked around frantically for someone, _anyone _familiar, or a healer. Aragorn was nowhere to be found. I guess he was still on the way back from his little nuzzle with Brego. But the elf caught me by surprise, Gimli trailing behind.

"Ai _Elbereth_, Elaina!" he breathed, helping Gamling lift Boromir off the horse. Once they had gotten him down, Legolas turned to me, eyeing the dress with interest while still managing the worried look. Gimli sported somewhere between a bewildered expression of relief and a shit-eating grin. Somehow, I was not amused.

"So, Lass, while we were off protectin' the population of Rohan, you and the lad decided to play dress up?"

I almost had the energy to reply in a sarcastic and sharp tone, but a sudden wave of strong exhaustion hit me. I swayed dangerously, slipping from the saddle.

_Damn_. How many times to I have to faint in this freaking year?!

Luckily, hard stone was there to break my fall.

**Ouch.**

Be proud of me, though—I actually managed to stay conscious. Legolas was able to hoist me up on my feet and push me to the nearest nurse's station—which happened to be Eowyn's.

The elf threw one last worried glance over his shoulder, and then went to help the other healer with Boromir. I winced, tugging at the annoying lace on the sleeves of Morwenna's gown. With as much strength as I could muster, I succeeded in ripping the sleeve with a satisfying tear. Eowyn eyed me curiously, drawing some hot water and spare clothes for me.

"Thanks," I murmured as she handed me a tunic and some breeches. "Can you help me get out of this damned mass of frills?"

I was rewarded with a small grin, and she pulled me into a narrow alcove that protected us from the view of others. I was thankful for all the privacy. It seemed people hadn't stopped staring at me since I got to Middle Earth.

"My lady does not enjoy the finery of court clothing?" Her eyes were alight with humor, and a bit of light mockery colored her tone. I could tell she was still trying to figure out if I was as desperately sick of the medieval-type female role as she was.

"Yeah," I grumbled. "I'd have run out of that tent in nothing but a barrel if it wouldn't have ruined our plan of escape."

I finally pulled the dress over my head with Eowyn's help, grabbing the shirt and tunic to replace it.

"Escape?" she prompted, and a faint mix of curiosity and awe passed across her face. "The masters Legolas and Gimli told me of your travel with them." A strange, wistful expression broke her cool attitude. "A lady that rides with a company of warriors, eludes the Uruk Hai, takes a horse and a wounded man halfway across Rohan, and lives to speak of it?"

I finished dressing, tying up the lacing on the worn boots with a skeptical look to match her slightly jealous one.

"Listen," I began, "Of course, it sounds all adventurous and heroic when you say it that way, but listen to me when I say—it's _not_."

She smiled a purely disapproving smile at my obvious distaste.

"Would you care, then, my lady, to become the King's niece in my stead?" The disbelief positively radiated from her now, and she wore a grin that denounced me as a complete lunatic. "I would gladly take your place in the company of great heroes and leaders of men."

I grinned right back, wincing and rubbing my sore neck.

"I'm sure you would," I said encouragingly, "Feel free to do just that at any time. My shoulders are _killing _me. And I need a bath."

She pursed her lips, rolling her eyes.

Then we both turned our heads when whispers of '_he has returned'_ rippled through the crowd.

"Lord Aragorn!" gasped Eowyn, grabbing my arm and pulling me along with her. She was sprinting.

Ok, Arwen, anytime you wanna show up that would be great. Like, now. Seriously, this looks like some twisted _90210 _episode.

The ranger in question looked more like some hobo that just fell off a bridge and into a sewer. Yeah, he was that gross. Fortunately, he remained a safe distance away from me. Eowyn had broken off (me? slowing her down?) and ran full speed ahead. Poor girl. She only just saw Legolas grin and hand the Evenstar pendant back into Aragorn's grimy hand.

Oh God—will _not _feel sorry for Eowyn. Repeat. Er, dang it! She's making the puppy eyes!

Eowyn muttered something about clean linens and dashed away. What a relief.

Uh-oh. Looks like the ranger spotted me.

My stomach lurched a bit. How do you expect me to react? You didn't see how mad he was!

"Elaina," he muttered, and in that single word I heard a few choice emotions—namely relief, confusion, and disbelief.

"Aragorn." I nodded my head casually as was possible. He just stood there for a second, eyeing me with some unreadable expression.

Then, I was pulled into a crushing hug.

"I am sorry," he muttered. Pulling away and sighting my wrinkled nose and small smile, he chuckled. "I guess you didn't catch me at the best of times."

I laughed, trying to fight off the nervousness. No matter how much you're forgiven for your mistakes, the shame is still there. "Well, that makes two of us. And _I'm_ the one who should be sorry." I paused, carefully observing his blank face. "I put you all in danger—twice—and if I could do it over again I would change it."

He scrutinized my eyes for a second, and then nodded with a forgiving smile. "I must see the king—but before, where is Boromir? Is he well?"

I sighed, still a little embarrassed that I had dragged the poor man into the whole thing. "He's alright—his arm was tagged by an arrow—"

"What? Is he alright?" Aragorn's worry only made the dread rock in my stomach flip more.

"I think he's fine," I said, hoping to God he really was. "He's just worn out. Legolas has seen him to a healer." Aragorn relaxed visibly, then nodded and walked off to see the king. But before I left, he turned and touched my arm. His face was stern, but kind.

"We'll talk after I see the King."

Oh, _shit_.

**TBC….**

**Author's Note: **_cowers _Seriously, don't kill me. I know this is a short chapter. I know it's been a while since my last update. I'm really, _really_ sorry. And I have complete confidence when I say, this story **will be continued**. With, possibly, a sequel. The reason for the lapse in update was this—I've been writing. Not this story (sorry), but working on an original piece of fiction, one that will hopefully blow everyone out of the water. It's taken up a lot of my time in research and lists (the not fun part) and I've barely gotten to the actual writing part (the fun stuff ;). But that's what I have to do. I can't promise an update immediately, but I can say it will be soon. And, (_hint hint) _you can expect a little romance in the next few chapters. Which, by the way, will be longer. I'm on Christmas break, which means basically that all my time will be spent writing, revising, editing, and rewriting. So, have a great Holiday break!

Reviews are nice. Really, they are. They make me smile like a goofy lunatic.


	26. Make Lemonade

**A/N:** Good _God_, I am a sweet little procrastinator, aren't I? _December???_ I'm not surprised if there will be tomatoes thrown or favorites deleted. However, here I am! Elaina's back with a vengeance, and snarkier than ever. Enjoy!

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Luckily for me, the meeting had stretched on for longer than Aragorn had expected, so I was spared telling the whole incriminating story for at least a few hours. Unluckily, though, Boromir was still asleep; apparently, well and healthy (he had definitely had worse)—so I had no one to hang around with. I found the curious glances in my direction and Eowyn's growing depression… well, irritating. So I made my excuses for some fresh air and plopped down on the wall in a secluded spot.

Probably not a good idea at the moment. Having time alone made my thoughts wander to the oncoming battle.

Would I be able to participate? I wouldn't kid myself—I knew saving Boromir was more a product of desperation than actual skill, and I had nowhere near the finesse and endurance to make it through… but something in my mind stubbornly kept the thought that I should be there with them. My friends—especially Boromir—may need my help. And I wasn't about to wave away the danger for them when I knew my being her may have _changed_ things. Things that raised important questions. Could I keep Boromir alive, or was it fate that he should die? I knew certain things depended on his death, and those were definitely changed by now. Remembering how many times we had come close to dying, to almost losing him after gaining him back from fate—well, it wasn't hard to imagine time and destiny were against him…

"Hey, Champ," the familiar voice said softly, and I jumped. It amused me that he had somewhere along the way, he picked up the peculiar names and phrases I loved to use. It comforted me in a strange way.

"Hey, Babe," I greeted back. Boromir rolled his eyes.

"You know, despite what you think, that word has a very different meaning here," he quipped, sighing. "I'm not exactly an infant."

I smiled at his annoyance. "Oh yeah? Well I prefer my meaning."

"Which is?"

I debated telling him the sordid details—it could possibly make for a funny scenario, seeing that cute little blush of his. Aw, what the heck.

"You know," I said, smirking, "Hunk. Man-candy. Stud." He looked confused for a moment, then a saw comprehension dawn on his face.

To his credit, he didn't flush red like I thought he would. He merely shrugged nonchalantly (though I could tell he held back a grin) and snorted.

"You don't have to tell me how… what was it? How 'sexy' I am? I know."

My jaw dropped, and I felt the laughter in me bubble up to the surface. I sputtered with giggles until tears came.

Finally, I brought myself under some control. To my delight, a huge smile lit up his face and I could tell he had laughed too. "I don't think you have the slightest clue what you've just said. Remind me never to allow you to talk if you ever visit the United States."

He nodded in mock seriousness.

For a few moments, we sat in comfortable silence watching the afternoon run its course. All around, people milled about gathering food, supplies, and family members and going back and forth into the caves. Somewhere I heard a goat bleat and a group of children shout and laugh. Surprisingly, the mood wasn't altogether as sober as I had imagined it would be. These people were ready, if not happy, to defend their country.

"The meeting is over," murmured Boromir, turning around and shielding his eyes to look at the door. It led into the heart of the fortress, where King Théoden was meeting with the other lords to discuss defense. It was now open, and a steady stream of blond men came pouring out hurriedly. It was then we both saw Aragorn wearily step out into the sunlight and sigh. Beside me, Boromir groaned.

"He doesn't look happy." He got up, offering a hand to me. I took it. "We should go ask what's happening."

I wrinkled my nose in displeasure. "I'd say it's obvious."

Boromir eyed me curiously as we walked down the stairs to the Keep. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

When we met up, Aragorn greeted Boromir with relieved warmth and asked how he felt. The warrior shrugged it off, assuring him that he had been perfectly happy going after the damsel in distress—trouble or no trouble. _Yeah, right._

I glared. "Please. I think I can handle myself." To my frustration, Boromir said nothing, only raising his eyebrows as if to say, 'yeah, whatever.' I huffed.

Aragorn smiled, his expression strangely satisfied. Before I could ask what that look was for, he began to tell us about the upcoming battle.

"Ten _thousand, _Aragorn?! But, surely… they can't _stay_…" he spluttered in disbelief, obviously skeptical of any sort of victory.

"And where else would they go?" I asked quietly, secretly agreeing with him that our chances at best were pretty slim.

Aragorn nodded grimly in agreement. Boromir suddenly glanced around as if seeing everyone in a different perspective. I couldn't help but frown as I saw the tiniest impression of despair as he looked at all the Rohirrim. "It won't be a battle," he snorted angrily, almost so low that I missed it, "It will be a slaughter."

Aragorn sighed. I flinched.

"Even so," Aragorn said calmly, "We will keep hope." This sounded more like a rebuke from a father than comfort to a friend. Boromir let out a "_tuh_" of doubt.

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound confident, "We'll all get through this. What's a few mangy orcs for you and me?"

Boromir's eyes flashed up to meet mine, suddenly flinty.

"You are _not _fighting, Elaina. I refuse to let you—"

"You _refuse_ to _let_ me what, Boromir?" I suddenly felt angry, surer of my decision, faced with his stubborn overprotection. My voice turned acidic. "Watch over my friends? Fight for the lives of the women and children in there?" I waved my hand in the direction of the caves, where families huddled together—maybe for the last time. "To make sure you don't get yourself killed—"

Boromir made a noise halfway between incredulity and exasperation. He scowled, oblivious to the fact that his voice had gotten louder as he spoke. "Elaina, I think I know more of battle and war than you. _And battle_," he made sure to annunciate every word clearly, as if talking to a stubborn kid, "_is absolutely no game_."

"I'm not stupid!" I growled, hating how my voice took on a childish edge, "I know it's a risk! I know I may well just die after two seconds out there! But if fighting with you guys gives anyone—you, Aragorn, that fucking _little boy _over there—a chance to make it, then, well… I'm _fighting_, dammit!"

Flushing, I realized Aragorn was still watching us. He observed us as if we were a particularly interesting sitcom that had refused to go on a commercial break. Boromir's expression seemed frozen in stormy determination. I raised my head in what I hoped spoke defiance, daring him to tell me what I couldn't do.

"Aragorn?" Boromir finally said, stiffly. I dreaded his refusal. Kings weren't allowed to interfere, dammit! This was between me and Boromir!

Isildur's heir regarded me carefully, silently boring into me with his piercing grey eyes. I held his gaze.

Finally, he spoke. "It is her choice."

I let out a breath, smiling. But when I saw the look on Boromir's face, I couldn't help but stop.

He shook his head in disbelief, regarding Aragorn as he would a lunatic. "I can't _believe _you're going to let her—"

"Let her what?" Gimli grunted, approaching the three of us with Legolas by his side.

Boromir's answer dripped with disapproval. "Elaina's going to fight in the battle." He looked at them eagerly, and I realized he was waiting to hear their protests, too.

Gimli chuckled. "Good. Glad to have the lass at my back." Boromir's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Obviously, no one realizes that this isn't some sortie of brainless Morgul-rats…" his voice trailed off mutinously.

Legolas scrutinized me, and somehow I felt he was looking through my head like a piece of clear glass. "Oh, she knows. In fact, I think she knows much more than any of us. Am I right, Elaina?"

I thought about the hordes of strong, beastly Uruks that would tear through this place with one thing on their minds: total destruction. And shivered.

"Yes," I said stiffly. "Yes I do. And I just want to say, Boromir, I _know _this isn't a walk in the park. I'm afraid, alright!"

He started to talk, giving me a look that asked 'then why?' before I interrupted.

"I don't think there's anyone here who isn't." I folded my arms across my chest, uncomfortable with revealing just how much the oncoming battle terrified me. "But I'm willing to do my part, just like all of you guys. It's stupid that I should be stuffed into the caves just because you think I might break a nail!" Suddenly I appreciated Eowyn's dogged determination to get out there and just _fight. _

Boromir let out an incredulous huff. "_Eru_, Elaina, you know that's not what I mean! There are women in those caves that are worthy of the title of Shieldmaiden, and I know that! It's _you _I'm worried about!" His eyes blazed as he went on. "You've been acquainted with the sword for less than two months, and you want to rush into _battle_?! Have you ever seen anyone die before?"

I recoiled, blood rushing to my face. Thinking of the dead—how many of these men, little boys and old men, would be dead before sunrise in two days? I had never seen anyone die, and I couldn't pretend to assume I would handle it in any reasonable way. The people of Middle Earth had the upper hand on me; they grew up knowing people fought and died in horrible ways.

"No," I answered, voice wavering. "But that doesn't matter."

"Oh, doesn't it?" he snorted in disgust. Aragorn looked on, frowning at Boromir. But, surprisingly, it was Legolas who had come to my aide.

"She will know, _mellon nîn. _This is her home now, and she must learn what comes with it." Legolas said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. Boromir softened, though he still looked as if he wished to protest.

"Besides," continued, "I see it in her; _Ortheritham hain. Avo 'osto._"

Aragorn and Boromir both let out sharp breaths, and threw each other wild looks. Legolas looked smug.

"What the hell, Legolas?!" I could not be certain what he said, but I could probably guess. "Stay out of my head!"

Gimli looked from each of us confusedly. "What was that, Legolas?"

He merely shrugged. "From what I gather, Elaina knows we're going to come out victorious."

Gimli gasped, and all eyes turned to me. "It isn't certain," I said, dreading what Gandalf would say when he heard this little detail let slip. "Don't get cocky; things that were… meant to have happened… have changed. I don't know anything for certain anymore."

"Of course," smoothed Legolas, still smiling. "But it helps keep hope alive, doesn't it?"

I groaned.

We all stood there, each of us thinking on the future. Finally, Boromir's eyes settled on mine, still discontent.

"Come on," he sighed resignedly. "We've got to get you some armor, if you're going to try not to get killed. I think we can manage something."

He pulled me along, and I felt a funny rush of anxiety and excitement course through me.

I was going to fight in the Battle of Helm's Deep.

TBC…

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**A/N:** Oh, my pretties, I know they haven't even gotten to the battle yet! And yet I think you owe me for the humongulous chapter. :cringes: Okay, I owe _you. _So I know the prose has changed a bit since December—I've taken some writing classes, and I think my style has improved tremendously. But that's up to you. Next chapter will be out soon and I can promise you you'll get your Boromir/Elaina dosage.

Please tell me you liked it? Reviewing is :in Borat voice: _NIIIICE._


	27. In Which All Hits the Fan

**A/N:** Yes. It's here ;) Enjoy!

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"Finally," Boromir breathed resignedly. He adjusted the straps on the armor—a little big, but it worked. Eowyn, furious that I had been allowed to fight, had made it through finding me some armor without hitting me. And I was lucky; this stuff had been made for a woman. Luckily for me, warrior maidens were heard of (if uncommon) in Rohan, and Boromir had managed to find and fit the heavy metal to me. I could move freely, but my movements were slow and awkward. Boromir's expression remained distant and cool.

"There, now," he said, his voice a little bitter. "You're all ready to die."

I flinched, glaring. "I'm not going to die," I said, sharper than I intended. I sighed.

He must have realized what he had said; Boromir's eyes widened and his face lost its harsh quality.

"No," he murmured, almost to himself. He looked ashamed. "No, of course not. We'll watch over you."

My throat tightened. Dammit, _why _was I getting all teary now? It wasn't like it was anything special, the boys watching out for me… I was their friend, and they expected the same from anyone else—in the unlikely case that they needed watching out for. It wasn't anything to cry over.

As Boromir scrutinized my face, he groaned and rubbed his temples. "You don't have to do this, Elaina. Any of it." His eyes darted to the entrance of the caves, where people began to file in. "Should the Uruks… should all else fail, you can help the women and children get out. You can do your part."

I shook my head. I wanted to be with him, wherever that may be. I had not snatched him from the jaws of death just to let him out of my sight again.

"No. I'm staying with you."

He paused, and then nodded resolutely.

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In little more than an hour the atmosphere changed drastically. Everywhere people scrambled—soldiers for weapons and armor, children and others unable to fight into the caves, and officers off to form the defense. It seemed the only ones unfazed were Legolas and Gimli, who sat unbothered in a corner bantering like there wasn't an oncoming DOOM. Damn elves. Damn dwarves. Damn Dark Lord!

Aragorn was, of course, the _de facto _second-in-command; he could barely rest a moment before a new problem or situation needed his attention. Boromir and I were at a loss for what to do—both of us seemed like tether balls on the end of the rope. I paced, back and forth, in front of Gimli and Legolas. Boromir leaned against the wall, watching me with apprehension.

My heart pounded. It was twilight. An hour. Maybe less, maybe more.

"Ugghh. I want chocolate." My voice shook.

The elf snickered. Actually _snickered. _

"YOU can laugh! I feel like I'm going to throw up Eowyn's stew! And _not _because of the flavor!"

Gimli let out a short bark of laughter. I felt like punting him over the wall.

I felt a firm grip on my arm, and turned to see Boromir's unreadable face. "Come with me."

Before we left, I caught Legolas and Gimli exchange meaningful glances… something I would have to talk with them about later. Grr.

We wound up taking a flight of stairs up to a guard post, deserted and elevated from the buzzing of an army below. From here, a clear view of the plains before Helm's Deep was visible; the sky was dimming and the stars were coming out. I shivered as the slightest breeze blew my hair back, thinking of what would lie below this tower very soon: enemies, the dead, and the fighting…

"For Eru's sake, Elaina, stop thinking so hard! You're making me more worried than I should possibly be." He slumped down on the wall, one palm supporting his chin. I heard a deep sigh escape him.

"I can't help it. It _is _my first battle, remember?" Trying to regain some of my flippancy, I exhaled my shaky breath and forced a light tone. "Besides, it's _you _I'm worried about. You're the one with the shitty luck."

He laughed.

Oh, no. Funny feeling returning. Shit.

"Come here," he beckoned, still smiling. Not noticing my discomfort, he scooted closer. And suddenly I was more aware of him than I had ever been since we met. His shoulder, warm against mine, sent funny prickles of electricity down my arm.

Gah.

"Listen to me, Elaina," he began, voice gentle but firm. "There is only one thing I need you to remember."

He was making any short term memory pretty damn difficult right now.

His eyes met mine, and somewhere in the grey there was a command. He wasn't requesting anything.

"You focus on keeping _you _alive. I'll be with you. We all will. But you think only of survival. You stay focused, you don't panic, and you keep up the fight." His tone was like silk and steel. "I promise you right now, you will be alive tomorrow."

I managed to choke out an "okay." Boromir relaxed, and I almost jumped when his hand closed around mine.

Why, why, _why _God did you choose to taunt me with this… it was unfair how much I couldn't have him. _Off limits, _my mind screamed. _You're a lunatic! He sees you as a responsibility, someone to keep out of trouble—not to cover in whipped cream and…_

SHIT. Thoughts under control. Thoughts under control.

Damn teenage hormones.

I made an effort to control my voice, though my words came out oddly strangled. "Got it. Kill orcs. No ADD. Survival mode."

He grinned, nodding. Observing the off quality in my expression, he threw me a curious look. "What is it?" Probably thought I was still scared.

Oh, I was. But orcs were on the Z-list.

"Nothing," I said. I hesitated before I finally asked to go back to Legolas and Gimli. He agreed, though I thought I could detect a hint of reluctance.

When we returned, the elf and dwarf made no effort to hide their curiosity. I flushed red, glaring daggers at the elf. After a moment (in which I was certain he rummaged through my head like a sack of potatoes) he scowled back. Looking around, he suddenly smiled THE smile.

Let me explain. THE smile gets people in trouble. It is a dirty, devious elf smile. Haldir flashed THE smile after letting a squirrel loose in Pip's bed. Elrohir and Elladan flashed THE smile when Glorfindel discovered his shampoo replaced with chili powder. Legolas flashed THE smile when he set up Gimli to promise a visit to Mirkwood.

Needless to say, I was suspicious as hell.

The elf lightly indicated a pair of Rohirrim to our left, across the courtyard. The pretty woman and the tall warrior seemed to rather stubbornly joined at the lips, with no sign of stopping. It was obvious this was the 'final kiss' of the parting sweethearts.

"Nothing like a battle to force certain… feelings… to the surface. _Na vedui! _They have been waiting. Isn't that sweet, Elaina?"

I forced myself to hold back a particularly nasty Sindarin reply I learned.

"Sweet." My teeth gnashed. Gimli smirked.

Legolas sprang up lightly, beckoning the dwarf. "Come, Gimli. We must go find a good spot on the wall. No—no, Elaina, don't get up. We shall save you a space near us." They were off without so much as a second glance.

Boromir leaned against the wall, eyeing the couple. He put on a good poker face, but his pink ears gave it away.

This could get no worse. I let out an inward groan.

"Well, they seem rather _occupied," _I muttered, throwing caution to the wind. "Wish I had something to do while waiting for imminent doom."

To my horror, Boromir turned to me with raised eyebrows. "Do you now?"

I blushed, avoiding his eyes. "Well, obviously I had something a little different in mind…" I laughed nervously, stupidly going on. "But, hey, whatever floats your boat…"

He chuckled, now openly observing them. "It _is _sweet. And sad. Elves have that damnable way of picking out the most sentimental parts of the most straightforwardly red-blooded activities."

I nodded weakly.

"Come on," he finally said, and without hesitation Boromir reached for my hand. "It's dark. I think it's time to go up to the wall."

I allowed myself to be led away, like a small child afraid of getting lost.

In a way, I was.

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Shit, shit. It's night. I can barely see a far off pinprick of light. Torchlight. Uruks. Gah.

"Crap," I whispered, running my hand through my hair. I caught a snarl in the unkempt strands, barely registering the pain. "Crap, oh _crap_!"

Boromir, to my left, glanced at me. He didn't look so great either, to tell you the truth. The faint rays of a crescent moon illuminated his pale, nervous face. A few spaces down the row, I heard Gimli complaining that he couldn't see a damn thing, and that 'thank you very much, but I do _not _need a box!' I almost laughed at their absurd arguing.

"Elaina," murmured Boromir, shifting closer to me, "This is purely hypothetical but, supposing there is the smallest chance we _might _die—"

_Oh, good. I already like where this is going._ My stomach felt like a floor show of acrobatic flips and tricks.

He continued, and I met his eyes—sensing something strange in his tone.

"Supposing we won't get another chance to talk…" He gulped. Really, he actually gulped. Boromir had my full attention now, and I was insanely curious as to what was so important that it reduced this macho man into… well, a kid suddenly thrust into the limelight.

"I want you to know… You are very… _special_ to me."

Oh, _wow_. Coming from anyone else, that line would sound so cheesy—but from him? It almost killed me how genuine, almost vulnerable he sounded.

But special in what way? Like, 'You saved my life, and I owe you one big,' or 'I want you.' Okay. Maybe not _that_ far, but you get the idea.

"Huh." Was all that came out. I gave myself a mental slap on the face. I am _soooo _articulate.

I must've looked like some strange fish, gaping stupidly, because he relaxed enough to laugh a little. The nervous quality was still there, but he gazed at me honestly and openly, as if to gauge my reaction. And he was smiling.

"Hypothetically," he murmured, his voice gaining confidence, "This is our last half hour together." He inched closer, and now he was more facing me than the wall. His grey eyes were strangely intense and warm. "Legolas was right. Don't you think we should say what's on our mind before we… ah, what was that phrase you used? 'Kicked the pale?'"

"Uh. Bucket." Gah.

"Yes." He took my hands. "Kick the bucket." He was melting me with a new smoldering look that instantly banned my mind to the gutter.

"Right," I said, exhaling shakily. "Can I say something?" My voice trembled.

He nodded, waiting calmly but tensely.

"I like you. Very much." Of all the _ridiculous_…

"Good. Can _I _say something?"

Nod yes. There's a good girl.

I waited, but he only bent his face closer to mine, stunning me with his eyes. He hesitated for only a single moment before I realized what he had to say didn't need to be said aloud at all— but spoken in a different way.

It was very gentle, and yet with Boromir everything held an undercurrent of intensity that seemed to mirror something inside. I responded eagerly, bringing my hands up to touch his face— to find that this was real. He deepened the kiss, and suddenly I was flooded with a feeling that was, in essence, _him_: bright, engaging, and unafraid.

I was walking in a strange new land, but it was _home_.

We broke apart at the sound of a delicate elvish cough, and I blinked slowly as if waking from a dream.

No _way_ did I just do that. Must not squee.

Legolas looked so smug that, kissing-high or no, I would smack that silly look off his face in two seconds flat. Gimli blushed furiously. And even better—Aragorn had walked up inconspicuously with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Oh, God, _kill _me.

"Well," sighed Boromir contentedly, "Warg's out of the cage now." The boys incredibly all wore the same content expression that seemed to telepathically congratulate Boromir on a job well done. I held back a moan.

"Yeah," I agreed impatiently, "Show's over. Nothing to see here."

Aragorn chuckled, throwing us one last grin before moving on to prepare for the battle. Gimli patted Legolas's back and muttered something like 'There! Happy now, Lad?' before steering him back to their spots. I groaned, putting my hands on my hot face.

Boromir laughed, and I couldn't help but feel a deep satisfaction at the sound. Pulling my hands off my face, he laid a single kiss on my forehead. We turned, and I was strangely happy staring up at the dark, cloudy sky. The enemies with their torches in the distance were only flashes of orange on the horizon, and I was happy to be here where most would give anything to leave.

I wondered, as we both stood comfortably close together, how I would _ever_ pull off keeping my focus now.

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**A/N:** Delivered! I am so eager to hear what you say about this bit. Seriously, a review will go a long way for the next one; tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, and what you want to see next!

PS—I did not forget about Haldir and Co. Hot blond Elves to reappear next chapter! Shazaam!


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